#grocery stocker

[bi-luminescentdragon]

Talking to my coworker about how the only tall people on our overnight shift are managers and how the rest of us need ladders to reach the top shelf and she goes: "you have to be this tall to be in management". Maybe it's the lack of sleep or the high amounts of caffeine, but I about died. Looks like I'll never be a manager 🤣🤣

[heartofpromethea]

*puts my ocs in my job*

[ghostbeam]

Bye thinking about Touya working at Trader Joe’s is so funny actually

[confinesofmy]

i'm planning next week's picnic like if one thing goes wrong i'll be publicly beheaded. i'm locked in to such an absurd degree.

[omegaversereloaded]

Here with an update about Marah's campaign!

PROOF OF VETTING AND SHARING BY 90-GHOST, A TRUSTED AND BELOVED VETTER ! Her old URL was @/helpfamily

First of all, I want to thank all of you for helping her reach her $50K goal! Mwah mwah mwah kissing your foreheads & whatnot

I have kept in contact with Marah these past few weeks: she is still hungry and terrified, but our support for her makes her feel hopeful! There has been an update to her campaign and goal - please read below:

From the first post I made:

Marah @freepaleatine95 needs our help: She is a computer science student in Gaza who, like many others, has lost many loved ones and suffered greatly this past year. She has reached out to me to make a post in her stead to raise support. You can read about her situation here.

When I made the last post 17 days ago, Marah had raised $35,763. Since then, we've gotten above her initial goal!!! Thank you so much for giving and sharing, she is grateful for you all, and I am too~

$53,460 raised of $70,000 goal

Every amount sent her way counts. Please donate as little as $1 towards her campaign! If you cannot donate directly to her campaign, please send an amount below and I will donate for you!

I don't use this for anything else so I know that any amount sent here will be for her campaign. Thank you for reading!

[realbacchus]

I have to write about the pandemic

[shotmrmiller]

Simon hangs around grocery stores whenever he's on leave. The ambient noise is a gentle hum— not too intrusive but enough to stifle the screams of his thoughts. There's something calming about the quiet conversations of the shoppers, the rhythmic beeping of the registers that just—

ordinary is extraordinary. There is no chaos. Only peace. He tucks his work boots away, wearing sneakers instead. His hands don't hold the cold, unforgiving metal of a gun. Instead, it's a carton of milk, a soft loaf of bread. The metallic smell (and taste) of duty is replaced by the smell of sweet fruit and fresh baked goods.

(A library is too quiet; allows for the screams to echo, refusing to be ignored.)

He gets to disappear here, wander like a ghost (haha), his presence as unobtrusive as the canned food in the aisles. And he does it for hours at a time. Days on end.

You, a simple aisle stocker, don't understand why. His eyes scan the shelves but his gaze is looking at something beyond. Distant. Hand hovering over a can of beans but not touching.

He's also huge. His size commands space yet he treads lightly. Like a shadow. How the others don't mind him, don't put in a complaint about his suffocating presence is a mystery. You look around and— nothing. No one cares. But you do.

Or maybe you're just nosy.

You approach him quietly— hands in your pockets to hide the fact that they're trembling— stopping a few paces away, giving him the space his body language demands. He doesn't turn but you know he's become aware of you. There's a subtle tensing of his shoulders, muscles beneath his shirt coiling.

"Hello. Need help finding anything?" You'll take your voice not shaking as much as it could've as a win.

There's a tightness around his eyes as he finally grabs said can with knuckles stained white. He briskly walks away, heading to self-checkout.

You, in your small act of kindness, or inability to mind your own, have offered him a scrap of attention, and now he will devour it with a hunger akin to madness.

(simon being that stray dog you find waiting outside, fur matted with rain because you're the first person in a long time to feed him, even if they were mere crumbs. now he's not going anywhere, refusing to be shooed away. he'll follow you anywhere, even into the earth's darkest corners until you take him home. feral, feral, feral.)

[mayra-quijotescx]

tumblr needs to introduce a function that blocks you from seeing the annoying-ass anons other people get since so few people on this godforsaken website can figure out how to either disable anons or ignore anon trolls

[evilminji]

You think the Chimpanzee from Dark LOVES Amity shops?

Like? Think about it...

How many places do you know, near where YOU LIVE, aren't gonna Be Weird About taking a sentient chimpanzee's legal tender. Selling him goods and services. Without, you know, doing the whole "is this a wild animal or a sentient Chimpanzee Detective person" Every Single Fucking Time, dispite him very CLEARLY wearing a suit.

Not treat him like a side show to be ogled at. Baby talked down too.

Treated as Less Then.

How many shops? Because yeah, he can buy things online. Ship them to drop points. Yes, he has a paying job. Legal rights he fought very, VERY hard for. And yeah, those rights are tenuous. Only as real as the willingness of those humans willing to enforce them. But? Money isn't worth much, with no where to spend it.

He's a grown fucking Chimpanzee for God's sake! It's frustrating and embarrassing having to ask his colleagues, to buy his groceries and other such goods, FOR him.

Then? He finds a preportedly "Meta Friendly" shop in the town he's currently working a case in? That reviews say is VERY good.

He'll be the judge of that.

After all, they all say that. Until a chimpanzee walks into their shop.

Only? Beyond the cashier's confused blinking? Nothing. They make what they CLEARLY think is a "discreet" call, the owner pops their head out from the back, look at him briefly, then merely nods. Says something into the phone that seems to clear everything up.

Not once his he bothered, as he peruses the shelves.

He even finds some tea he'd been having trouble locating and a lovely local bread that looks promising. Bobo? Has a new favorite grocery store. To hell that he must take the zeta tubes to get there. Worth it.

And that's BEFORE he learns, through a bit of artful small talk. That there is both a FULL TOWN like this AND a full network of shops/services he can locate through an app.

When they say Everyone Welcome, they truely do mean it.

He's brought swamp thing, shown up covered in blood, swung by with a literal angel for bandages and some water too make holy. Not so much as a blink. Seen Constantine staring blankly at the vodkas, like they offer salvation. The stockers step gently around. Morningstar? Not sure what he was BUYING, but Bobo watched him pay in a solid gold brick and leave with the basket.

He reported that one.

Still. It's? The most... normal, he's ever felt.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @hypewinter @hypewinter @dcxdpdabbles

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[bi-luminescentdragon]

In case you were wondering, going 36+ hrs without sleep on a regular basis is so not healthy.

[mays-random-fandom-reblogs]

One of my favorite things about fma is that you don't have to be a big person to matter, and no I'm not talking about size lol. I'm taking about characters with extraordinary talents, skills, personalities, influence. Of course those characters are essential to the story, but they aren't the only ones that matter. Look at Rose, she's just a heartbroken girl doing her best, but she isn't dismissed or forgotten - she's able to help her community and give Winry a much needed break and connection. Maria Ross is a competent soldier, but she doesn't particularly stand out among the cast of giants around her - and she matters so much.

Even big characters aren't treated like they have to be big to matter. Izumi Curtis is a master combatant and a skilled alchemist, essential to Father's plan... and she's a housewife. By choice! Winry is a genius mechanic who's biggest goal in life is to help her patients stay mobile. She's not a fighter, she's not the stuff of revolutions... she's just a girl who works hard and cares about people. And she's so important just for being that.

I think the characters that show this the most concisely are the miners from Youswell. They're literally coal miners. Working folk. They grow up, they mine coal, they have kids, their kids mine coal, they die. What's the point of respecting their lives when they're all so insignificant, Yoki implies. These are our homes, and our graves, Halling says. Our lives are here, our families are here, our history is here, and it may be nothing to you but it's everything to us, he doesn't. Yoki is wrong, Ed thinks. You matter.

As a small town grocery stocker I appreciate Arakawa so much for this. You don't have to be big, to have talent or skill or charisma or influence or power or looks or exist on any sort of big scale to matter. Hell, in the end the very protagonist himself, alchemy genius extraordinaire, makes the choice to exit the big stage. You'll give up what makes you special? Truth asks. Who needs to be special? Ed shoots back, and wins, and lives his life happy being just a little guy.

Arakawa said there's just as much value in going home as there is in going big, and I think that matters.

[000-pawz]

BND MALE THOT JOBS

SUNGHO - CONSTRUCTION WORKER

RIWOO - OVERNIGHT GROCERY STORE STOCKER

JAEHYUN - FOOT LOCKER EMPLOYEE

TAESAN - TATTOO ARTIST

LEEHAN - AMAZON PRIME DELIVERY DRIVER

[isaacsapphire]

It feels like there's an inherent contradiction between the common ethical precept, "Don't treat people as things" and how businesses, economies, and states work. At best, they treat people as things And people simultaneously, but they have to treat people as things to function.

And as much as a lot of people like to tell themselves that they don't treat other people as things, go on about how they would never take a management position or whatever, they buy their food at the grocery store and their clothes from a store the same as everyone else, which inherently contains within it treating everyone involved in the supply chain as things. Like, none of us gaf if this avocado was picked by Carlos or Maria. We neither know nor care if the overnight stocker who put it on the shelf last night is the same person who was stocking last month, or who the trucker was who drove it was.

And, like, there's still a Carlos and Maria and a trucker and probably an overnight stocker under socialism and communism and fascism and a command economy too, so I don't see a path away from this under different economic systems, as much as people love to bloviate about how vile capitalism is.

[dollysilena]

TRAINING WHEELS

CHAPTER FOUR | THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

ao3 I series masterlist | previous chapter I next chapter

five years ago, you stupidly had a fling with inarizaki athlete, miya atsumu- now, present day- he had a son he knew nothing about. you made sure it was going to stay that way, but as fate would have it, he unexpectedly stumbled back into your lives, now as volleyball's biggest star.

wc & notes: 9.5k words (i am FRIED) — they said it couldn’t be done, but consider the “doesn’t update anymore” allegations BEAT. longer writers note on ao3 LMAO. pls enjoy and ignore any errors i am dying guys

“I can’t believe you never told me!”

You tossed a bag of apples into the grocery cart.

“You knew I had a crush on Miya Atsumu ever since I saw him shirtless on last year’s Vogue Japan cover! How could you not say anything?!”

You pretended to inspect a carrot thoroughly. Naomi wasn’t convinced. She knew you didn’t even like carrots.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

You started pushing the cart faster.

“Well, if you’re not going to answer, can you at least tell me if he was good in bed?”

The grocery cart came to a screeching halt as your eyes widened like saucers. The piercing sound made both of you wince as the supermarket stocker dropped a handful of vegetables from shock. You hurriedly scurried away to another section of the grocery store while Naomi trailed after you.

“I take that as a yes?” Naomi chuckled nervously. You stared daggers at her before your friend took the silent hint to shut up.

“Naomi,” you sighed, continuing through the snacks aisle. “It’s not exactly easy telling people the father of your son is Japan’s biggest athlete. Don’t take it the wrong way, I never meant for anyone to find out,” 

“But you can see how that played out,” you continued trying to avoid making a grimace, but your face couldn’t help it.

Naomi nodded quietly. “I’m sorry for prying.”

“It’s alright,” you rolled your eyes. “And yes, he was good. Though, it was in a bathroom.”

Naomi let out a shriek that sounded vaguely like your name as you continued through the grocery store. 

It’s odd, you thought, your world was flipped upside down and nobody would be none the wiser. The past twenty four hours was whiplashing. Not only had your past fling turned volleyball superstar, not to mention the father of your child, reappeared in your life, he was here to stay. You had always assumed if your dirty little secret were to get out, the floodgates would wash your carefully constructed life away and that nothing would be the same. And in a way, it was, but there you were, grocery shopping with Naomi on a quiet Tuesday morning like nothing had happened.

You could still hardly believe it, honestly. The moment you realized you were going to be a mother five years ago, you imagined that the rest of your life after you looked at that positive pregnancy test would be without him. You assumed that he would prioritize his budding career, his passion for volleyball, above you. You were just some girl he had a fling with after all. Why would he throw away the promising life he had for you? But, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, he ended up choosing to stay. And willingly. He could’ve walked out the moment he stepped foot into Onigiri Miya, but he didn’t.

It made you wonder, would he have made the same decision five years ago? To stay? Would things have been different now if you had him by your side then? 

Did you make a mistake not telling him all those years ago?

Naomi’s voice broke your thoughts. “How’s your baby daddy doing with the whole ‘new parent’ thing anyway?”

You instinctively cringed. “Please never call him that again.”

“Well, what else would I call him?”

You rolled your eyes as you tossed a bag of Haru’s favorite chips into the cart.

“Well, all things considered, he’s doing okay. I think.” 

You weren’t really sure, typically, one doesn’t have a secret family pop up from nowhere.

“And how are you doing with your baby daddy?” Naomi continued.

You ignored the nickname, much to your dismay, you guessed it wasn’t going anywhere soon. You thought back to the question for several moments, but there just wasn’t anything that could begin to describe what on earth was going on in your mind.

“I don’t know,” you stated simply. “It’s weird knowing he’s going to be around, I guess.”

“Weird?” Naomi repeated, tilting her head. “I thought it was a good thing?”

“It definitely is,” you replied, before sighing. “I just… don’t know how to be around Atsumu.”

You never meant for him to be in your life in the first place, so you weren’t sure where he was going to fit now that he was in it, for better or for worse.

“Well, I’m sure he’s feeling the same way too,” Naomi reassured. “Maybe you should bring up spending more time with one another. Get to know each other, y’know?”

You paused, maybe that wasn’t a half bad idea. You pushed your cart to the checkout lane.

Despite Atsumu having an early morning the next day, he didn’t sleep the entire night after returning home from your apartment. And who could blame him? He had too much to think about. On the bright side, he had an early start to his morning unlike the day before. He thought that maybe by being earlier for practice he would get out of his coach’s scolding, but Coach Foster was already waiting for him at the gymnasium despite him arriving a whole hour early.

“You better have a good explanation for running out on practice yesterday, especially with the start of the season so close!” Coach Foster scowled with his arms crossed the moment Atsumu sheepishly walked into the gymnasium.

Atsumu sucked in his teeth and hoped he would believe the events of the prior night. Guess he would just have to find out…

Five minutes later, inside one of the secluded offices inside the gymnasium and away from prying ears, Coach Foster’s jaw was hanging open in a mixture of shock, horror, and disbelief. Truthfully, he considered filing for early retirement right then and there.

“You’re telling me you have a son?” Coach Foster asked in a hushed whisper. Atsumu nodded and the man gave a heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples.

“Honestly, Atsumu…” 

Coach Foster sighed deeply as he rubbed his temples. In his time as a professional sports coach, he had seen his fair share of scandals amongst his athletes, but this one might’ve taken the cake. Initially, he hadn’t believed him, chalking it up to one of his usual pranks, but Atsumu’s conviction was deathly serious. Not to mention the picture he handed him was jarring. The boy looked just like him. 

“I hope that you know what a massive responsibility this is,” Coach Foster said, beginning his lecture. He was honestly still in disbelief over the news his setter broke to him. And honestly, he was debating if what he was hearing was even true, picture or not. 

“I didn’t have my first child until I was in my thirties, you’re still only twenty-three, and not to mention still a little immature–”

“I’m gonna be a part of his life no matter what,” Atsumu stated firmly, cutting him off. 

Usually he knew better than speaking against his senior, but he quickly came to his own defense. 

“I wasn’t there in the beginnin’, so I’m gonna make up for lost time and be there for Haru.”

The Coach was taken aback by Atsumu’s tone, before shaking his head with a chuckle. He had known the setter for some quite some time, being there to see the progression of his career from when he started the league until now. He had never quite taken the young setter seriously when it came to real life experiences, he was still so young after all, but he would almost say he was proud of Atsumu for stepping up. But time would tell if he could fill in the shoes of a father.

“I believe in you,” Foster simply said. “But this does raise a few issues though.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we are going to have to talk to the PR team about this. You’re one of Japan’s most famous athletes right now, and you have paparazzi hounding your every move. It would probably be in the best interest of your son and the mother to stay under the radar until you find a way to announce this publicly without sparking controversy, which is already difficult enough considering the circumstances.”

Atsumu thought silently. In the midst of all the chaos, he hadn’t thought yet how his career could negatively affect you and Haru. He wasn’t sure how he would handle it yet, but he could feel a protective surge in his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this is handled discreetly,” Coach Foster said.

Atsumu thanked the man, before being instructed to return to practice. As the door closed, Coach Foster sighed deeply, he sure had his work cut out for him.

As Atsumu entered the gym, he was almost immediately bombarded by his teammates. Bokuto and Hinata practically tackled him down the moment he stepped into practice.

“”Tsumu! Where’d you go last night?” Bokuto exclaimed, appearing at his side. “I wanted to practice my spikes with you!”

“Coach was mad,” Hinata shivered beside him. “He said he’d make you run triple the amount of laps today–” Atsumu gulped at the thought of the coach’s training being even more intensive than it already was.

“”Samu had a problem at the restaurant and needed some help,” Atsumu replied as nonchalantly he could. It wasn’t entirely false but it sure as hell wasn’t a good lie either. But before Hinata and Bokuto could press more, Coach Foster bounded out of his office.

“Enough small talk! We need to start our warm ups.” Coach Foster announced. Atsumu nearly sighed in relief, until he realized he was probably going to be worked to the bone.

The rest of practice went on as usual, except for Coach Foster making the session more grueling for Atsumu in particular. He bit back his complaints, already knowing this wouldn’t be the last of his coach’s discipline for him. He probably deserved it, anyway. 

Later, after a practice what Atsumu could only call torturous, Coach Foster blew his whistle and beckoned the team over.

“It seems I have an unexpected meeting with the PR representatives,” Coach Foster announced, “so we’re going to call off practice early today!”

Atsumu caught a glare from Coach Foster that could unmistakably only be meant for him. He hoped nobody else caught it or the fact his face was mortified, but thankfully everybody else on the team seemed too busy celebrating the abrupt end to practice. 

“Take the rest of the day to recover, that’s all!”

Atsumu practically felt the weight on his shoulders dissipate as he headed for the lockerroom. His bones were aching at that point, and the only thing he wanted to do was collapse onto one of the benches. He went into his locker and dug his phone out of his practice bag. Going through his notifications, he was surprised to see his first message was from you.

You (12:35pm):

hey, how do you feel about spending more time together?

You (12:35pm):

to get used to being around each other i mean

You (12:36pm):

sorry, i don’t really know how to go about this

You (12:37pm):

my bad, you’re busy at practice probably

You (12:37pm):

sorry, just ignore this

He quickly wrote back.

Atsumu (12:45pm):

nono, don’t worry, i just got out of practice actually

Atsumu (12:45pm):

i don’t how to go about this either, but i would love to spend more time with ya and haru

Exhaustion long forgotten, Atsumu grabbed his bag and headed out of the gym with a noticeable smile on his face.

You groaned as you slumped down on the staircase of your apartment complex. Of course the elevator decided to go out of service when you had an entire weeks worth of groceries to bring up. You barely had made it up to floor three before you decided to give up. Now, you were collapsed onto the step of the stairs surrounded by what seemed to be an endless sea of bags. How were you going to make it up another seven flights?

You heard footsteps behind you, presumably from someone who was also inconvenienced by the lack of elevators. 

“Sorry,” you groaned as you got to your feet as you collected up one of the bags. “I was just taking a break from taking up these damn groceries–”

“Do ya need help?” You perked up, you certainly weren’t in a position to say no.

You looked up to thank the stranger for their offer and are met with Atsumu instead. Miya Atsumu, who definitely doesn’t live in your building.

What on earth?-- Oh no. Oh no. He thought your message about spending more time together meant today. You were so caught up in bringing up your groceries that you hadn’t bothered to check your phone to see his response.

You were suddenly all too aware of the sweatpants you haphazardly threw on and the shirt you’re pretty sure Haru stained with paint from his fingerpainting phase last month. You won’t even begin on whatever hairstyle you haphazardly did this moring. You were under the impression that all you were doing was going to the supermarket with Naomi so you didn’t bother getting properly dressed. Now you were standing infront of him a sweaty mess as he looks as if he just walked off a magazine shoot with his fresh-out-of-a-workout glow, designer tracksuit, and practice bag swung effortlessly over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” You quickly said, not prepared to greet him as you clutched tightly onto the bag full of produce in your hands. “I didn’t– uh– expect you to come today.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows creased in confusion before the realization flashed on his face.

“Oh! Ya meant for that message to be in general.” Atsumu exclaimed, and he looked noticeably embarrassed. “Sorry, I just thought–”

“Nono!” You stammered, trying to collect yourself. “It’s okay, I’m off today anyways. Besides, I need help with these bags.” Atsumu cracked a smile at you before reaching down to grab a handful of bags, which was alot more than you could carry by yourself. 

“Here, let me take these too,” he offered, extending his hands out to take the bag in your hands.

“You don’t have to take them all, y’know,” you replied. The poor man already had about four in his arms already. Though, he was carrying the heavy bags without even straining himself, unlike yourself. A rigorous workout schedule would do that, you suppose

“Consider this the first of many repayments,” he chuckled as he took a bag out of your hands. You felt yourself tense when you felt his fingers skim over your hand, and you had to clutch onto the bag tighter for it not to tumble out of your hands. 

You forgot about how stupidly charming he was. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place.

Once you both situated yourselves, you lugged up the stairs and finally reached your apartment. You were noticeably more out of breath than Atsumu was, who didn’t seem to break a sweat despite carrying up twice the amount of bags you did. 

“I guess all that professional athlete training came in handy,” you snorted as you went to unlock the door.

“Coach made sure to put me through it this mornin’ for the stunt I pulled yesterday,” he chuckled. “Guess it was good trainin’ for carryin’ up all these bags.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep you around for my next grocery trip,” you snickered as you placed your bags in the kitchen as Atsumu followed.

“I’ll be here for as many trips as ya need.”

The comment was meant to be innocent, but it nearly made you stop in your tracks. You knew he was here to stay from your conversation the night before, but hearing him affirm it was unexpected. It still hadn’t sunk in yet. A day ago, Miya Atsumu was a distant memory, and today he was standing in your kitchen helping you bring in groceries. Would you ever get used to this? 

“Where’s Haru?” Atsumu asked, looking around to see no trace of the small boy. 

“School,” you answered as you began to unpack the bags onto your counter. “I have a few hours until I have to go pick him up if you wanna join me.”

“Of course,” he replied with a quick eagerness, “what do ya wanna do until then?”

Shit, you didn’t think about the fact you would be with Atsumu alone for the time being. 

Alone. With your ex-fling. 

Who you refused to admit is starting to make your heart beat a little faster.

Suppressing any of the silly leftover schoolgirl feelings you still harbored, you reminded yourself that Atsumu was kind out of courtesy of the situation between you two. You two are still strangers, fling aside. 

Before you could open your mouth to answer, your stomach decided to interrupt the conversation with a undeniable grumble. You immediately grabbed your stomach in attempt to silence it, but there was no way Atsumu didn’t hear it. Your face flushed, and you regretted sleeping in and deciding to skip breakfast that morning.

“I think that means ya want lunch.” You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“I’m mortified, but that sounds great right about now,” you nervously laughed. “I can cook us something–”

“I can’t let ya cook, it’s yer day off!” Atsumu interjected as if he were offended you would suggest such an idea. “C’mon, let me take ya out.”

“Atsumu, I look like a mess right now,” you chuckled, looking down at your clothes. “I don’t think–”

“Ya look great so that’s not an excuse,” he interjected and you’re taken aback from the sudden compliment. Surely you couldn’t look that great with your old college t-shirt decorated in paint splatters. But Atsumu looked adamant in his statement with the way he was staring you down. 

“C’mon, it doesn’t have to be anythin’ fancy,” he insisted. “We could just go to Osamu’s, on me.”

Your stomach was practically begging for attention at that point and you groaned, knowing it was too good an offer to pass down. Not to mention, you couldn’t keep holding eye contact with him without melting onto the floor. It’s almost intimidating, the way he won’t back down. 

“Alright, alright, but let me change at least.”

“Good,” Atsumu grinned as you scurried off into your bedroom.

You quickly got changed into a pair of jeans and the first decent shirt you spotted in your closet. It’s simple, but a pretty shade of green with a flattering neckline. You knew the lunch wasn’t going to be anything fancy, but it didn’t stop you from putting on the jewelry you had sitting on your dresser and swiping on some lip gloss. You gave yourself a quick look in the mirror, not bad in ten minutes.

You headed back to the kitchen where you left Atsumu, who was sitting at the counter as he absentmindedly scrolled on his phone. 

“C’mon Miya, you owe me lunch,” you chimed as you grabbed your keys off the table.

Atsumu looked up and you swore he opened up his mouth to say something, but immediately clammed up.

“What is it?” You asked, tilting your head. He suddenly seemed nervous, which was a stark difference from his calm demeanor not even a second ago.

“Ya– uh– just look nice, let’s go.”

Before you could react, Atsumu was already heading for the door. 

Stupidly and annoyingly charming. 

You hoped this meal wouldn’t be the death of you.

The elevators seemed to be back in service as Atsumu had already called it up by the time you locked the door and made your way to him down the hall.

It’s just lunch, you had to tell yourself as you both got inside quietly. Don’t be so nervous. But it didn’t stop your hands from fidgeting as you watched the elevator floor level slowly descend down before dinging at the first floor. 

You both exited and you barely made it a few steps out the front door before you heard the beep of a car. You turned beside you to spot arguably the flashiest sports car you’ve ever seen parked next to your quaint apartment building. It seemed as though it came right from the dealership with it’s perfect white paint job and bright gleam. It couldn’t belong to anyone but the professional athlete himself beside you. That V-League paycheck must be cushy.

“Wow.” It was pretty much all you could say. 

“I got it when I first went pro,” he chuckled as he brought you to the passenger side. “Kind of an impulsive decision.”

You snorted as he opened the door for you and let you inside. “I thought this lunch was supposed to be casual.”

“As casual as it can be, considerin’ the circumstances,” he said as he got into the drivers seat and you rolled your eyes. Right, nothing about this was casual. 

“I probably gotta get somethin’ different soon though,” he noted as he turned on the engine and the car revved to life.

“Why’s that?”

“Not enough room for a carseat in the back,” he responded simply as he pulled the car out. “Or would it be a booster seat? I’m not really sure.”

You were taken aback. “You already thought of that?--”

“‘Course I did,” Atsumu replied like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Thought ‘bout it on my way over here.”

You knew Atsumu was serious when he said he wanted to make a commitment, but you just didn’t think he’d be ready for change so quickly. If he was already thinking about getting a whole new car just for the sake of a booster seat, what else was he ready to change? Co-parenting wasn’t something you ever considered, much less planned for. You shook it off, knowing you were getting ahead of yourself. Right now was just lunch, and that was all. You busied yourself with looking out the window as you watched the streets go by.

“How long have ya been in Osaka?” He asked, eyes focused on the road.

“A little before Haru was born,” you answered. “Before that I lived with my grandmother in Kagawa before she passed, and after that I moved to Osaka because I knew their university had a babysitting service for parents getting their degrees.”

“So about five years?”

“Just about, why do you ask?”

“I’ve been in Osaka since I went pro after high school…” Atsumu mumbled and there’s a noticeable regret in his tone. “I just can’t believe I never knew ya were here.”

“Atsumu, don’t beat yourself up,” you sighed, looking away from the window and back at him. “It’s an enormous city and I was purposefully avoiding you the entire time.”

Though you tried to reassure him, his demeanor was still crestfallen as he drove.

“Y’know, I even avoided sports stores because I was scared I’d run into you there. Haru’s gym teacher hates me because I never get his uniforms on time.”

The last line made Atsumu snort and you’re glad he didn’t seem as dejected. “And what if I was there?”

“I actually had to go last month to pick up sneakers for Haru,” you rolled your eyes. “They had a lifesize cardboard display of you and I thought it was actually you. I ran away so quickly the cashier thought I was a thief.”

You manage to get a smile to crack through Atsumu after all. You realize you eventually made it to Osamu’s restaurant as Atsumu parked beside it. Before you could even manage to open your door, Atsumu had already made it to the passenger door outside and opened it for you.

“You know you don’t need to do that,” you chuckled as you climbed out.

“Nah, but I wanna.”

Your heart needed to stop doing whatever the hell it was doing in your chest.

It seemed like you weren’t going to win as Atsumu made sure to open the restaurant door for you as well. You walked inside as the bell chimed on the door as you spotted Osamu behind the front counter.

“Could ya please stop coming in here durin’ my breaktime?!” Osamu barked as he tossed the towel strewn over his shoulder directly at his brother’s head. “I need to start lockin’ the damn doors because of ya!”

“How else can I eat in privacy?” Atsumu whined, grabbing the towel off his face. “I haven’t recovered from the time the tabloids posted all those pictures of me eatin’ your onigiri!”

“It’s because ya ate eight in one sittin’!” Osamu exclaimed, before noticing you standing behind Atsumu. He immediately composed himself from his previous hostility. “Oh, I didn’t realize ya were here.”

“Hi,” you waved meekly. “Sorry for coming in, I had no idea you were on break.”

Osamu scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “No worries, I’m used to this moron bargin’ in here anyways. Take a seat and I’ll fix ya somethin’.”

You both got sat in one of the nearby booths as Osamu got you settled before heading into the back kitchen to get started on cooking. The restaurant was empty, and you realized Atsumu’s habit of coming in during Osamu’s breaktime was probably so he could eat in privacy.

“Oi, ‘Samu!” Atsumu called into the nearby kitchen. “Make some extra gyoza!”

“Oh, that’s my favorite!” You exclaimed. You were practically starving at this point, so the mention of the food made your mouth water.

“Ya always packed some for lunch back in high school, right?” Atsumu noted. It was true, if you didn’t pack any from home, you would sneak out to the convenience store to buy some instead.

“How on earth do you remember that?” You snorted. His memory was spot-on, especially since high school felt like eons ago.

Atsumu shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Is your favorite food still tuna?”

“How’d ya know that?” Atsumu asked, noticeably surprised, as if he didn’t remember the detail about you moments ago.

“Haru eats it all the time, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree apparently,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s like a mini you.”

Atsumu smiled softly and looked at his hands placed onto the table. He was fiddling with his fingers, roughed up probably from all the time he played volleyball. He seemed nervous.

“He is?” He said, almost shyly. Not like the typically confident guy he was.

“Yup,” you answered, resting your hand on your face. “Earlier when you were bickering with Osamu, it reminds me of when Haru starts to whine.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly, before his face flashed with realization. “Wait, hey!--”

You laughed as Atsumu scoffed but it seemed more like a pout with the way he jutted out his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. It made you think about how uncanny the two looked. You couldn’t help but smile as Atsumu turned back to you, his face still a bit peeved at your earlier jab. 

“I still feel like I don’t know enough about ya still,” Atsumu noted.

You paused. Five years of avoidance would do that… But now it was different. You didn’t have to force the distance anymore unlike before.

“That doesn’t matter, does it? We aren’t in a rush to.”

Atsumu smiled at you again and you felt your heart still. “No, we’re not.”

Whenever he looked at you, you became acutely aware just how present Atsumu was. It almost didn’t seem real. He wasn’t just some image you saw from afar, like interviews on TV or in magazines you saw at the convenience store. And somehow, he wasn’t leaving or running away like you thought he would be. Nothing was separating you, he was infront of you and here with you. 

And as happy as it made you, it scared you just as much.

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself,” you noted, wanting to change the topic. “I feel like I’m doing all the talking here.”

Atsumu shrugged. “My life’s pretty much an open book, what do ya wanna know?”

Atsumu was right, he was in the limelight even before he went pro. Anything you wanted to know about him was probably written somewhere online by fans or reporters. You remembered that back in high school, he was already getting recognized by national recruiters, not to mention having an army of fangirls. You vaguely remembered them giving you– and any other girl– shit for even breathing in his general direction, you couldn’t imagine what they would have done to you had they known you both were secretly hooking up. You weren’t sure how Atsumu always kept his composure despite majority of his life being constantly under a microscope. 

You, for one, wouldn’t know how to handle it, and it was partially the reason you hid from him for so long. You wondered how long you could hide from the watchful eyes on Atsumu. At some point, they would be on you.

“Is it hard?” You blurted out.

Atsumu paused at your sudden statement. “What is?”

Maybe it wasn’t appropriate for you to be asking something personal for what was supposed to be a casual luncheon, but it the question already came out of your mouth.

“Being famous. Doesn’t it get tiring having to be watched all the time?”

You half expected Atsumu to crack some wise joke about how he was meant to be famous, his boisterous confidence was undoubtedly star-material after all, but he paused again. You noticed him looking at the wall behind you, and you turned over your shoulder to spot a picture frame hung up. It was a picture of his high school team, with Atsumu front and center with his usual plastered grin.

“Yeah, I think it does sometimes.”

You wanted to ask more, but you didn’t think you should. You didn’t think it was a line you should cross. At least, not yet. You were reminded of the fact you two were still practically strangers.

You had nearly forgotten you were there to eat had it not been for Osamu coming around the corner with a steaming tray of food. You barely were able to stop your mouth from salivating once Osamu placed the plates onto the table.

“This is for ya,” Osamu stated harshly, shoving what could only be a receipt into Atsumu’s face.

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about?!” Atsumu barked, snatching the paper from his brother’s hand. “What happened to my family discount?”

“She eats free, but after what ya put me through, ya pay double now.”

Atsumu couldn’t think of anything to retort as he shamefully shoved the receipt into his pocket, muttering something about his ‘good for nothin’ brother’. You couldn’t help but giggle.

Osamu turned back to you. “‘Least I can do is make ya food, so stop in anytime.”

You quickly thanked Osamu for his generous offer before he left the two of you alone in the booth.

“I should’ve bombarded into here sooner if I knew it would have gotten me free food,” you chuckled, immediately going to grab one of the various riceballs infront of you. The taste didn’t disappoint either. Osamu must’ve been a magician, because the food could’ve only been this good with the help of magic. No wonder he had rows of culinary awards plastered on his walls.

“Speakin’ of which, how on earth didn’t ya realize ‘Samu was my twin brother?” Atsumu asked, laughing. “His face didn’t ring any bells?”*

You groaned through your bite of rice. “Listen…”

The rest of your lunch carried on with less stress than you had originally imagined. You thought that underlying tension would weigh down the majority of your meeting and the rest to come, but the two of you got on so… easily. As if Atsumu wasn’t the last person you wanted to see, not even a day ago. You guessed it was from Atsumu’s obnoxiously pleasant personality, one that got you into trouble all those years ago, that made you feel so relaxed. It was a wonder how he was so easygoing in the first place, while you were still a jumbled ball of nerves.

“Should we go pick up Haru now?” Atsumu asked, nodding towards the time on the clock. It was nearing the time you were supposed to go pick him up from school.

“Yeah, but…”

You turned to look out the window of the flashy car parked outside and you grimaced. You couldn’t imagine the faces– not to mention the salacious gossip that would ensue– of the other preschool moms if you suddenly pulled up in a car worth more than your monthly rent, with a man in tow nonetheless. You already got enough shit for being a single parent, and you didn’t want to give those haughty women the idea you were somehow some sort of sugar baby too. 

You looked back to Atsumu, bright-eyed and grinning a magazine-selling smile, and you realized his celebrity face was probably more conspicuous than his car. 

Maybe you should’ve felt bad for making Atsumu wear a face mask and park two streets away, and probably should have felt worse for having him steal the baseball cap right off of Osamu’s head before heading out, but you imagined it would have been worse if Japan’s favorite athlete was suddenly sitting beside you in a lobby full of Osaka’s most talkative housewives. While it seemed nobody had caught onto his identity since majority of his features were covered, you still caught a few of the parents glancing in your direction. Their curiosity was understandable, it was common knowledge you were on your own, so bringing a man with you was surely an eyebrow-raiser.

“That lady with the scary makeup keeps staring at me and it’s making me nervous,” Atsumu whispered in the seat beside you. 

You looked in the direction he was referring to and caught one of the moms, Hitomi, staring directly at Atsumu. Her stark plum-red lipstick paired with spidery false lashes was daunting to look at. Not to mention, she had a personality to match. Her stuck-up personality had already grinded your nerves to a tipping point and the school year had barely began. Even Haru had a disdain for her daughter, Yuki, claiming she constantly hogged all the toys to herself during recess. 

“Y/N, you have company today!” She chirped happily. 

Translation: Who’s this man with you?

It was obvious she wanted to know who Atsumu was. Hitomi apparently didn’t have much shame as her eyes didn’t even bother to meet yours as she raked her eyes up and down Atsumu’s body. While his face wasn’t discernible though his mask, his well-built body had most of the women in the room stealing glances at him. It was obvious, even with the mask, he was definitely handsome. 

You realized there were other onlookers in the room silently listening in. Hitomi was putting on a show. However, you were expecting as much.

“Ah, yes, this is my colleague from work,” you responded, hoping your lie wasn’t transparent. “We were out nearby for a meeting and he accompanied me today to come get Haru.”

“How kind of him!” She grinned. “Will we be seeing more of him?”

Translation: Is this a man in your life? A boyfriend, perhaps?

“Just for today,” you lied through an insincere smile. The entire exchange was already proving to be a headache. You were hoping that Hitomi would just give up and believe your fib that today was just an appearance from a kind coworker. 

“Actually! I’m tryin’ to come more often.” Atsumu replied cheerfully beside you, breaking his silence.  

You cracked your neck to him at lightning speeds and hoped nobody noticed your eyes bulging out of your head. Why on earth was he not playing along?! Forget being civil with Atsumu, you were about to strangle him infront of the entire PTA committee. All the while, he was cheerful as always.

“That’s great to hear!” Hitomi exclaimed. “Since we’ll be seeing you more often, what’s your name?”

Oh, absolutely not. If the rumor mill caught ahold of any information about Atsumu, they would be done for. Atsumu opened his mouth to respond but the door to the classrooms opened.

“Oh, the kids are done class!” You interjected loudly.

Thankfully, Haru and the rest of his class were released from their classroom and into the lobby to be picked up. Haru immediately beelined into your waiting arms and Hitomi was approached by her own daughter, interrupting the conversation. 

“We’re actually in a rush now, so we’ll have to be going,” you apologized, and didn’t even wait for Hitomi to respond as you grabbed onto Haru’s hand, and grabbed onto Atsumu’s sleeve to drag them away to the front desk to sign out Haru as quickly as possible. You practically ran out of the building with both of them in tow, ignoring the many confused stares.

You collected yourselves outside on a secluded part of the street, and you almost collapsed in relief. God knows what would have happened if word got out that Miya Atsumu, of all people, was suddenly picking up your toddler.

“Mama, what’s Mister ‘Tsumu doing here?” Haru asked beside you. You were surprised Haru could recognize him with half his face and hair covered.

“How’d ya know it was me?” Atsumu chuckled, leaning down to Haru’s height and pulling down his mask to his chin.

“Only you have that weird colored hair, mister.”

Your hand immediately flew up to your face to hide your mouth as Atsumu’s face fell. A few tufts of blonde hair stuck out from the hat, seemingly giving him away.

“And mama’s only friends are you and Aunt Naomi, so–”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to snort as you pinched your son’s cheek softly. He whined in protest.

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” you scolded him before turning to Atsumu. “And you, were you trying to give yourself away to the entire lobby? Hitomi’s probably gone off and told the entire neighborhood about my new coworker by now.” 

You remembered the time one of the preschool moms caught you at a work dinner and assumed you were out on a date. By the next morning, the entire lobby was telling you how happy they were to ‘finally see you with a man.’

“Well, I am goin’ to be here more often now.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “So may as well tell ‘em.”

“And were you planning on telling them who you were?” You questioned raising an eyebrow, remembering how he almost answered Hitomi when she asked for his name. “What would you have done if they found out who you really were?”

Haru held onto your leg beside you as he quietly observed your conversation, probably confused on what you two could be bickering about.

He thought for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “I guess ya have a point… My coach did tell me to keep quiet for now.” So he did end up telling his coaches.

“I get that it’s important to keep my identity and all, but I guess I was just got excited about being able to be there for Haru,” he murmured. You sighed, while it was a stupid move, he did seemingly have good intentions. You probably shouldn’t have been so hard on him.

“Mama, you still haven’t told me why Mister Atsumu is here,” Haru frowned in confusion from beside you. You looked down, realizing you still hadn’t answered him. You looked back at Atsumu, still looking dejected.

“He’s here to hang out with us today,” you answered, patting his head. “And he’ll actually be coming to pick you up more often too.”

“Really?” Haru exclaimed excitedly. Atsumu looked back up, suddenly cheering up with a grin. Atsumu almost reminded you of a puppy with how quickly he could perk up after being discouraged.

“C’mon, we’re even going to go home in Mr. Atsumu’s car,” you said, leaning down beside him. “Atsumu, do you wanna show Haru the way?”

“Yeah!” He replied, almost too excitedly as he offered Haru his hand to take, his glumness now forgotten. You smiled warmly as you watched Haru accept his hand, before Atsumu led him to the car.

“Haru, take off your shoes first!” You scolded the young boy as you entered your apartment. Haru, still clad in his school uniform, hurriedly tugged off his small sneakers, and immediately bounded off to the living room to catch the afternoon airing of his favorite cartoon he frequently watched after a long day of school.

“What do ya do now that Haru’s back from school?” Atsumu asked from behind you as you took off your own shoes. 

“Well,” you tapped your chin. You figured it was a good start for Atsumu to know what Haru’s schedule was like. “Usually after school, I make him some lunch and he gets to have some TV time, and he usually likes watching either cartoons or volleyball.” Atsumu grinned at the second option.

“Then he does his homework, gets some free-time before dinner, then he’ll get ready for bed.”

“Since he needs to eat lunch, can I help ya?” Atsumu offered. 

“Sure, I think I have the ingredients for some of his favorite noodles.”

Truthfully, Atsumu probably shouldn’t have offered. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he was an absolute shit cook, but he was desperate to help in any way he could. But how hard could it be?

Apparently, very hard.

He had cut his finger about five times now cutting a single carrot, had oil pop onto said cut, and burnt the noodles the second you handed him the pan. 

Damn Osamu for taking all the cooking genetics in the womb! He cursed silently. He recalled all of his mother’s and Osamu’s fruitless cooking lessons, which all ended in failure. When he had moved out by himself to Osaka and had to feed himself, he solely relied on Osamu, takeout, or instant ramen. He was just thankful you were able to salvage the meal so that Haru miraculously had something to eat that wasn’t burnt to a crisp. 

He moped quietly in the corner of the kitchen, holding onto his injured finger that was throbbing from pain, and his hands were already sore from the exhaustive setting practice he did earlier. If he was alone, he’d be waving around his battered hand and cursing up a storm.

“Let me see,” you beckoned him over. He surrendered his hand over to you in shame as you inspected his cuts and burn.

“Haru!” You called out to the boy in the living room. “Go grab the first aid kit from the bathroom, please!”

His cheeks burned in pure embarrassment. He felt like the toddler in this situation, much less a parent.

Haru, ever the responsible child, immediately got out the first aid kit upon your request. You went to grab a few bandaids and burn treatment for Atsumu to put on, but Haru tugged at Atsumu’s pants leg.

“I wanna do it!” Haru exclaimed. Atsumu realized he was referring to the bandage you were about to hand Atsumu. He looked over to you for permission before you nodded, agreeing that it was okay.

Atsumu chuckled. “‘Course, bud.”

“C’mere, I’ll show you what to do,” you told Haru, before carefully instructing him what to do with the bandaid and ointment. Now, a four year old was taking care of him by bandaging his hand. It’s laughable really, a kid, his own child at that, was able to take care of Atsumu before he could take care of him.

“All better!” Haru chirped, showing Atsumu the zoo-themed bandaids now clad on his fingers and palm.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haru,” Atsumu sighed, rubbing over the plaster on his fingertips. “It seems I’m not a very good cook.”

“‘Tis okay,” Haru responded with a cheery smile that Atsumu thought was all too similar to yours. “I’ll still eat it!”

You ushered Haru to take his food and eat lunch, while Atsumu was still sulking in the kitchen. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at Atsumu, he was really like a whimpering puppy.

“Don’t worry, he thinks the food is delicious.”

“Yeah, but that’s because ya fixed it,” Atsumu frowned.

You noticed he was still rubbing a hand over his burnt one, so you clasped onto his to still his anxious fidgeting.

“Haru’s not your Michelin-star brother, his taste palette is composed of dinosaur nuggets and jello. He’ll eat just about anything.” You chuckled, rubbing your hand reassuringly over his. He laughed, more so at himself than anything.

Something about being near you made him feel clumsy and nervous. While you were composed and self-assured, he was suddenly back to being the thick-headed teenager that he has desperately tried to outgrow. He wasn’t sure what happened to the polished and confident Miya Atsumu everyone knew, the one that he was so sure he’s been all this time. The star setter, the positive teammate, the Atsumu who knew what he was doing. 

But he wasn’t. And it was now of all times that he needed to be that Atsumu. 

The last time he felt like the shoes he were wearing were suddenly too big was when Osamu told him he wouldn’t be following him after graduation. Like then, the role he needed to fill was gaping, and it was eating him alive how he didn’t know how to be that. The guy everyone expected him to be, the Miya Atsumu everyone needed him to be, that he wanted to be.

“Y’know, one time I burnt all the cookies I made for his school bake sale,” you suddenly said.

“Huh?” He realized he had strayed too long in his thoughts.

“Haru had a big class bake sale that all the school moms were involved in,” you explained. “It was the first school event I had to work in, and I got assigned cookies. I thought it’d be a slice of cake. How hard could it be, y’know? But I was such a klutz and took a nap while they were baking. Guess I was exhausted from work. The smoke detector woke me up and our landlady was about to call the fire department.”

“Really?” Atsumu replied, a meak laugh escaping from him.

“Yup, and I didn’t have time to bake new ones so I thought I could pass off store-bought ones as homemade, but the other moms saw through my bullshit. Hitomi, the mom you met earlier, gave me an earful about it,” you snickered before looking back at him, still rubbing the pad of your thumb over the bandage across his palm.

“It’s all a learning curve, you get better at it with time. So don’t beat yourself up just because you messed up the first time, alright?”

Atsumu let out a faint chuckle before nodding. The thought of you in the same position as him reassured him somewhat. Of course he didn’t enjoy the thought of you with bandaids all over your hands like himself, but the thought that you could struggle as much as him, while still having the experience of parenthood makes him feel a little better about his lack of cooking skill. He would get it next time.

He looked back down and realized your hand was still on top of his and the blood rushed to his face embarrassingly fast. You noticed his obviously flustered expression, and jerked your hand away.

“Sorry about that–” You stammered quickly. 

A string of curses slung through Atsumu’s head. He should’ve been the embarrassed one here.

“No, no, it’s alright!--” Idiot, idiot. The lingering feeling of your hand resting on his made him absentmindedly clench his hand. He tried to fight back the heat still remaining his cheeks. Why on earth was he acting like it was the first time a girl touched his hand? Maybe he was still like a stupid teenager in more ways than one.

Suddenly, your phone was buzzing on the countertop. You turned over to grab it as Atsumu caught his breath.

“Ah, it’s my boss, I should probably take this.”

Atsumu nodded. “I’ll let ya have some quiet.”

Atsumu left the kitchen so you could take your phone call in private, and noticed Haru was just about done with his food at the dining table. His head perked up noticing Atsumu come in.

“Hey mister, why are you hanging out with me and mama today?” Haru suddenly asked through a mouthful of food. “You bored with volleyball or something?”

You and Atsumu hadn’t had the chance to properly explain why he was suddenly spending more time with you both, probably because you weren’t sure how to properly explain it in the first place. Haru’s curiosity was understandable though, it wasn’t exactly ordinary that the athlete he watched on television was suddenly meandering in their apartment.

Atsumu took a seat at the table. “I guess ya could say I’m yer mom’s friend.”

That explanation would do for now, he hoped. Thankfully, it seemed like it sufficed enough for Haru as he nodded. For a four year old, he didn’t need to question the logic behind the situation.

“Okay, then do you wanna watch TV with me?” Haru asked, suddenly changing the topic.

“Sure, what do ya wanna watch?”

Haru hummed in thought, before a lightbulb went off in Atsumu’s head. You had mentioned before that Haru enjoyed volleyball, this could be a perfect bonding opportunity for him. He imagined all the cool facts and conversations they could have about the sport, maybe even Haru and him could play the sport together–

“Haru, do ya wanna watch volleyball?” Atsumu asked the child, sitting beside him at the kitchen table.

Haru took a final bite of his food.

“Nah,” Haru replied. “I wanna watch basketball.”

It was as if the blood in Atsumu’s body ran ice cold and a crack racketed through his heart. Surely what he was hearing wasn’t true. 

Atsumu clutched his chest in offense before almost shrieking. “Basketball?!”

“Yeah,” Haru nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“B-But,” Atsumu stammered, feeling a bit of his soul trinkle out of his body. “What’s so good about basketball?! Volleyball’s  so much cooler!”

“I started playing it during recess, and it’s so much fun!” Haru grinned, finishing the food on his plate. Before Atsumu could protest, he hopped out of his seat and headed off for the living room. Atsumu knew parenting was going to be hard, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Atsumu followed Haru to the couch, verbally protesting the idea, but it didn’t stop Haru from grabbing the remote and turning it on to a sports channel playing the dreaded sport. Atsumu sat stiffly on the couch, accepting that he would just have to come to terms with the fact that his son hated him. Okay, he was being a little dramatic, but still! This was the utmost betrayal in his book.

“Slam dunks are so cool,” Haru cooed at the screen. 

“Yeah, but service aces are alot cooler.”

For the duration of the game on television, whenever Haru would comment on the game, Atsumu was sure to follow with his own rebuttal about how volleyball was clearly the superior sport. Though, Haru didn’t pay him much mind. Atsumu was relieved when Haru finally decided to turn off the TV, finally putting an end to his impromptu torture (once again, being dramatic). He wondered how you managed to do this everyday and not be at your wits end.

Haru hopped off the couch and went to collect his backpack off the nearby table. Damn, Atsumu thought, he didn’t have to be told to do his homework. Haru must have picked that up from you, because it definitely wasn’t from him. He vaguely remembered almost having to repeat kindergarten had his mother not convinced his teachers otherwise. Mrs. Takahashi did not hold a special place in his heart. She definitely liked Osamu more than him.

“What’s yer homework, bud?” Atsumu asked, looking over the boy’s shoulder as he sat down at the coffee table with his work.

“I have an art project,” Haru explained as he unpacked his crayons. “I have to draw my family.”

Haru suddenly stuck a piece of paper infront of him, and Atsumu blinked in surprise.

“Draw with me!” He requested with a toothy smile. Why not? Atsumu shrugged before accepting the paper. Anything was better than having to watch basketball.

Atsumu was reminded that he was certainly not an artist. But he was surely better at drawing than he was at cooking. He drew something vaguely similar to a tiger– reminiscent of the stuffed toy sitting across from him on the couch, but it came out something more like a balloon animal. Next to Haru’s paper, they both were similar in children-like quality.

“Done!” Haru announced before presenting his paper to Atsumu. It was a typical kindergartener’s drawing, with colorful squiggly lines and a smiley faced sun adorned in the corner.

“This is me and mama,” Haru explained, pointing to two stick figures with bright big smiley faces. “This is Aunt Mimi, and I put you mister!”

“What? How come?” Haru considered him a part of his family? Already?

“You said you’re mama’s friend,” he stated simply. For a four year old, it was all the reason he needed. Atsumu looked down at the photo, a smile creeping on his mouth, even if Haru chose to color his hair with a too-bright yellow crayon.

“Sorry, sorry!” You exclaimed, returning to the living room to find Haru and Atsumu sitting cross-legged at the coffee table. “My boss never knows when to stop talking, I swear.”

“That’s alright, look at what Haru drew!” Atsumu beamed, gesturing to the drawing on the table.

You walked over to inspect the colorful drawing and snorted. “Is that supposed to be you there?”

“Yup,” Atsumu grinned bashfully. He was practically giddy with excitement.

“Your hair is the same color as the sun,” you giggled pointing at the neon yellow sun in the corner of the page.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You couldn’t help but grin at how gleefully Atsumu was beaming at the drawing. 

“Could I have this?” Atsumu asked, looking at Haru.

“No, it’s my homework!” Haru retorted, frowning. “I’ll get in trouble.”

You could tell Atsumu was about to give one of his infamous pouting faces that you were starting to grow accustomed to.

“But I could draw you another one,” Haru replied, going to grab another piece of paper.

“I’d like that very much.”

As Haru got to work on another drawing for Atsumu, you both went back to sit at the dining table together.

“How would you say your first day of parenting went?” You asked, across from Atsumu.

“I don’t think I’ll ever recover from Haru asking me to watch basketball over volleyball,” Atsumu scoffed. “Do you think he’s already goin’ through his rebellious phase?”

“It’s not the end of the world,” you snorted. Atsumu seemed practically miserable at the idea that Haru preferred the rival sport. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Haru declared he wanted to pursue any other activity other than volleyball at school. Knowing Atsumu, he would probably collapse at the idea.

“Ah, I didn’t realize how late it was gettin’,” Atsumu said, looking at the time on the clock on the wall.

“Yeah, I’ll have to get dinner started and Haru to bed soon,” you nodded, the day having flown by before you could even realize.

“I’ll get goin’ then,” Atsumu said, getting up from the table. “But I hope we can do this again soon?”

“Of course, I’d love it if you came around more often.” you replied and Atsumu’s eyes widened.

“Really?” He replied.

“Haru would too! I can already tell he likes being around you–” You quickly added, realizing that you probably seemed too eager for Atsumu to visit again. But it didn’t seem like he minded at all.

“I hope so,” Atsumu chuckled, going to collect his things. “Even if it seems like he doesn’t like my job.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you called over Haru to say goodbye, and the toddler came to the door with a paper scrunched in his hands.

“I drew you!” He announced proudly, presenting Atsumu the picture he had drawn for him. Once again, you noticed he had used the brightest yellow crayon he had in his box to color his hair.

“Thanks, Haru,” Atsumu grinned, going to ruffle his hair and take the picture from him. “I’ll put it on my fridge as soon as I get home.”

He turned back to you, the picture held carefully in his zoo-bandaged hands. It’s adorable, really.

“I’ll see ya around soon, alright?” Atsumu said with a toothy grin.

“Alright,” you replied, your tone softer than you intended.

Haru and you waved goodbye as you watched Atsumu head out of the apartment and down the hallway. Once he was in the privacy of the elevator, he pressed the drawing against his chest, where his heart was busy welling. 

“I’d love it if you came around more often, huh?” He chuckled to himself. He didn't admit to himself he thought about the comment all the way home.

* a little joke at how y/n didn't recognize osamu somehow LMAO, excuse the little logic behind it, it was for plot convenience :)

reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciates! :)

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Foodlion

Food Lion based in Salisbury, North Carolina since 1957. By leveraging its longstanding heritage of low prices and convenient locations, Food Lion is working to own the easiest full shop grocery experience in the southeast, anchored by a strong commitment to affordability, freshness and the communities it serves.We have more than 1,000 stores in 10 Southeastern and Mid-Atlantic States.We employ more than 60,000 associates.

Customer Lead

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Harris Teeter

Harris Teeter Supermarkets, LLC., also known as Harris Teeter Neighborhood Food & Pharmacy, is an American supermarket chain based in Matthews, North Carolina, a suburb of Charlotte. As of February 2024, the chain operates 259 stores in seven South Atlantic states and Washington, D.C.

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Lowes Foods

Founded in 1954, Lowes Foods employs approximately 9,000 people and operates nearly 100 full-service supermarkets in North Carolina, South Carolina and Virginia. Locally owned and operated, Lowes Foods is truly a homegrown company committed to bringing community back to the table, by providing customers with the freshest and most innovative local products from local suppliers. The company maintains a strong focus on exceptional attention to our guests, with services like Lowes Foods-To-Go personal shopping and gas rewards discounts. To learn more, visit lowesfoods.com or follow Lowes Foods on Facebook or Twitter. Lowes Foods, LLC is a wholly owned subsidiary of Alex Lee, Inc.

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Sam's Club

Sam’s Club is home to more than 100,000 associates in more than 660 locations all working together to provide great service and value to our members. By providing innovative products, a shopping experience infused with digital solutions such as Scan & Go and Club Pickup and support to the communities we serve, we truly differentiate our company in the marketplace. The constant pursuit to surprising and delight our members drives our business every day.

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Walmart

Walmart store managers are the best leaders in retail, and we’re investing in them – simplifying their pay structure and redesigning their bonus program, giving them the opportunity to earn an annual bonus up to 200% of their base salary.

Cashier & Front End Services

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