#miya twins fic

[mania-sama]

a murder of crows in the lowlight off boston

Halloween - Noah Kahan

➼ information ❧ Haikyuu ❧ Pairing: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu ❧ Addition Character: Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu's Mother ❧ Tags: ghost! atsumu, poverty, good sibling! osamu, past character murder, angst, blood and gore, a smidge of body horror, this is my formal post for the spooky month of october ❧ Summary: Atsumu is dead. Osamu lets him go. ❧ Word Count: 1,696 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 2 October 2024

The Miya household consisted of one woman in her early thirties and two twin boys, aged sixteen as of October, cramped into a two-bedroom trailer in the deep countryside. The size of their abode meant that constant noise was able to be heard from all available corners, mostly coming from the twins’ tumultuous bickering and the small cable television their mother loathed to shut off as it provided news updates, the weather, and her favorite true crime programs. There’s barely enough room to exist most days, much less cook, dance, and have rowdy fights that end up knocking over a lamp or two, but they manage all the same.

Now the Miya household is down to one mother and one son. The home expands as wide as the endless paddy fields west of the trailer park, and it takes twice as long to reach one end of the house from the other than it does to travel that half-mile distance to the rice farm. 

The only noise Osamu can hear is his own breathing, shallow and ragged yet barely audible all the same. His lungs freeze and thaw every second, and he wonders what would happen if his lungs failed to melt. The fantasy of his chest stilling and organs collapsing dissolves into the stale, heavy air as his nose continues to push air in and out of his body despite the crippling silence of the place he’s supposed to call home.

The bunk bed above his is empty. Osamu stares at the black wired bottom of the top bunk as though it will somehow magically bring his brother back. He counts in his head to ten, emits a cough that echoes like a bomb in his shared bedroom, and anticipates his brother to lean over the wooden railing to make a scathing comment at Osamu’s expense.

Nothing. Of course, there is nothing. He does this time and time again every day, repeating the action like a broken clock attempting to move forward but is forced to tick back into the place it was a second before.

A sound cuts through his fogging mind and sightless eyes, scaring him into an upright position and almost cracking his head on the top bunk. His brother’s name is already forming on his lips, a desperate plea and hope that he’d begun to leave behind.

But—

“Osamu, please help me.”

His mother, from the living room, a thousand miles away.

Osamu has lost weight, he knows. He hasn’t been to school, cooked, or played volleyball in a month. He rarely makes the daring journey out of his bedroom into the hallways, finding the trek to be more treacherous than a tightrope walk across a yawning ravine. Forcing himself off of his bed is hard enough as it is. The navy blue sheets and thin, threadbare mattress have curved to form a perfect mold around his body, leaving a perfect cast for him to settle into on the days when he, no matter how hard he tries, cannot move and can hardly bear to breathe.

At his brother’s predictable silence, Osamu calls with a rough, unused voice that cracks upon the first word, “I’m coming, Ma.”

He can’t recall how he and his brother could reach the living room in two and a half leaps. It takes him twenty, thirty, forty shuffling steps. His socked feet barely make a sound against the ugly brown carpet, and he walks alone across deserts and oceans and hellfire to simply make it to the kitchen. From there, he can see his mother, standing in front of the mute, blank television. Laying on the floor by her feet are a thousand shards glimmering with the reflection of her grief-stricken face.

Kneeling in front of her is a boy vainly attempting to pick up the broken glass. His head snaps up when he hears Osamu approaching. The boy stands, grimaces thinly, and says, “Oh, ‘Samu, thank God! Ma’s been ignoring me! And she just knocked this glass all over the carpet, and I don’t know why, but she’s about to cry. Never seen this before. Think it’s an heirloom?” His gaze flickers back Ma. “Please stop cryin’, Ma. I’m trying to help.”

The boy has a knife sticking out of his abdomen at the very end of a long, open wound across his stomach that explodes his pink entrails, and blood drips grotesquely from his lips. When he speaks, his mouth flashes thick, clotting maroon against pearly white teeth. The pale skin down his neck and arms are streaked in the same fluids.

The boy’s name is Atsumu, and Osamu knows this because they share the same face.

Osamu reaches the living room in three quick steps, the walls of the trailer suddenly shrinking in on all sides. He meets his mother’s red, puffy eyes, then squints at Atsumu who shrugs and points to the mess on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to,” his mother hiccups, one hand reaching up to cover her trembling lips. “I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t.”

He leans down, brushing his fingertips against the glass and carpet. Rough, sand-like particles stick to the pads, cling to the undersides of his nails, and leave ashy fingerprint marks on the clear shards.

“It’s okay, Ma. I promise,” Atsumu comforts, his voice soothing the rush flooding Osamu’s ears.

“His urn is broken,” Osamu whispers. It’s a shout, an ear-splitting scream with his brother standing next to him. The sounds of his brother’s murder case play from the television in his mind so clearly he nearly convinces himself of its reality.

“Whose urn?” Atsumu gasps, his hand reaching out to touch Osamu but entirely falling through. Osamu tilts his head to look up at him. If Atsumu notices the way his entire form flickers, becoming transparent enough to see the black television behind him, he doesn’t show it.

His mother cries more, and Atsumu tries to hug her by wrapping his arms around her shoulders, but she doesn’t react. “What do we do?”

Osamu doesn’t know.

The living room becomes brighter as a cloud moves out from under the sun, sending warm rays beaming across the floor and highlighting Atsumu’s ashes. Simultaneously, Atsumu becomes harder to see, as if the light itself is melting away his body.

His face is still clear, standing at a height that protects his head from the sun. The color of his lips is impossible to make out behind the heavy coating of his blood, and his yellow hair is tousled and matted with dried bits of flesh and gore.

Atsumu stares at him with hazel eyes that look terribly, horribly, sickeningly alive.

For the first time in a month, since the day the police knocked on their door with the devastating result of their search-and-rescue hunt for his missing brother, Osamu feels like he can breathe. He takes in the crisp filtered air, smelling the faint traces of his brother’s scent from his spot on the ratty old couch. His throat cools and eases oxygen in and carbon dioxide out, as it was always meant to do.

“We get the dirt devil vacuum,” he says. His chest tightens, squeezing around his heart as bile crawls up his throat. “Get all of the ashes out and into a new urn.”

He’s killing Atsumu again, he knows. He knows it because Atsumu trembles, his head shaking and bright eyes betraying his hurt.

“You’re ignoring me, too! You’re both ignoring me! What did I do? Why are you doin’ this?” Atsumu cries. Despite the anger lacing his words like poison, Atsumu’s words lay over Osamu like a thick, warm blanket.

He missed his brother. He missed how he took up all of the space in a room, how he let his voice boom over everyone else regardless of the warnings he’d previously received. He missed his volatile personality that barely masked how much he cared for his family.

But his brother is gone.

Osamu covers his face with his hands and presses the heels harshly into his eyes, scattering thick black dots across his vision. 

There is a knife sticking out of Atsumu’s ghost.

He ignores his brother’s burning remarks shot at the back of his neck and picks out a blue plastic cup and napkin from the kitchen. While his mother sobs, he scrapes a large clump of the gray remains into the cup and covers it with the thin white napkin. He watches as Atsumu bleeds out from his view, slowly, like the blood coming from his mouth and flowing over his orange shirt. His faint outline remains, and his noises — formless, wordless sounds — are no louder than the shutter of the wind against the bushes that brush against the outside of the trailer.

Quietly, so quietly that only his brother could hear it, he leans in close to the cup, pressing his mouth against the napkin, and says, “I love you.”

Atsumu never would have made it across the ravines, oceans, deserts, and paddy fields that overtook the trailer. He would have wondered why Ma could never respond to him. He would eventually figure out that he couldn’t touch anyone, couldn’t feel their warmth, couldn’t play volleyball, go to school, or do anything, really, ever again.

I love you, he said, because he loves his brother enough to let him leave the static television that doesn’t run the news, weather, or crime channel anymore, and let him leave the house that kills all noise like a blackhole crushes all matter.

Osamu misses him more than anything.

He returns to his bottom bunk, later, after the cleaned dirt devil sucks up the remains and out into the blue plastic cup. He tapes the sides of the napkin to the cup with duct tape and sets it in his room for safekeeping. The mattress welcomes him back, the human mold folding over him and hugging him tightly.

When he breathes, he does so slowly. His lungs are raw from freezer burn, but they do not freeze, and they do not thaw.

He simply breathes, and the top bunk remains empty.

[caelivir]

“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.

atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”

“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.

“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”

the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.

osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.

friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.

osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.

and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.

you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.

osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.

osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.

“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”

his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.

“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.

“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.

“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?

the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.

“he can thank me later.”

atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.

[natriae]

part 1

honestly this could be read alone

Osamu watched as his brother angrily walked out of his restaurant. It was obvious that this wasn’t Atsumu’s standard victim pout he did to get attention. This was his ‘fuck, i just fucked something up so badly that even i know it’. Rare for Atsumu but not new. Osamu, however, is quickly distracted by your trembling body as you run to the bathroom. What the fuck did he do now?

Suna glances at Osamu as his body turns back around towards the front door. The silent interaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the other boys, but they know better than to interfere. Quickly excusing himself, Osamu exits the front door to find his brother crouched on the side of the building with his head in his hands. There was one thing Osamu told his brother when he first introduced you too. You simply were just another loyal patron to his establishment, but he saw how his brother looked at you. After you had left, Osamu made it very clear that Atsumu was not to hurt you. You were a sweet girl who did not need to be left crying over his brother. He knew the kind of man Atsumu was. He wasn’t ever there for a long time. All he wanted was a good one, but the way Atsumu's eyes watched you thank Osamu for delivering your food had a look of childlike innocence that Osamu had only seen in Atsumu’s first love.

Back in the restaurant the boys had their own conversation about what was possibly happening. Not realizing how thin the walls were to the bathroom. Your sobs had quieted down and you were sure you were ready to head back out and pretend that none of this ever happened. While grabbing the handle you hear the soft talk of Sunarin’s voice, “You know I surprisingly had hope he wouldn’t fuck this one up too. I mean she really isn’t his type, but I don’t know maybe he wanted to try something new.”

“Rin knock it off, that's not nice,” Kita quickly responds, but all you can hear is the low chuckle of Suna’s laugh. What did he mean? Were you really not Atsumu’s type at all? It wouldn’t be the first time you had heard this, but hearing it from someone that Atsumu sees as a brother hurts worse. Your hand slowly reclines back to a position at your side, body falling into the same sync softly sliding down the wall. Your eyes twitch, unable to find the water to cry. It all hurts. Of course it was silly to date him.

Outside Osamu crouches down next to his brother. Atsumu doesn’t bother looking up, already sensing who was there. The younger twin waits patiently watching the lights switch from red to green down the street. It’s much quieter here than in Tokyo. Most of the city is already asleep and the streets are empty. The occasional sound of another restaurant closing up for the night is loud and clear for the two boys to hear. He watches as Atsumu’s arms fall to rest on his knees and he lifts his head so body leans back to completely rest on the wall. Osamu notices how Atsumu patiently waits for him to scold him. For him to immediately question what the hell he did. To possibly pick a fight this late in the night, but none of that comes. Life’s different now, and they both know now that some situations can’t be solved by bickering. He’s grateful his brother can read him well enough that he knows he regrets what happened without having to say it.

“I messed up ‘samu. Just like ya said I would,” Atsumu states, looking to the ground. Too ashamed to look at his brother. If there's one thing Atsumu has had to learn to control while growing up, it’s his ego, and he’s constantly being tested by the universe to see if he finally learned better. Yet here he is once again ruining something that was good for him all because he got defensive. He wasn’t thinking. Something he’s really good at. It was a cheap shot that he deeply regrets.

“I neva said ya were gonna to mess up,” Osamu sighs, watching his brother’s face for a twitch of emotion, “I wanned ta make sure ‘ou were gonna go into this for the right reasons. I’ve watched ya crash and burn far too much. I just want ya to be happy.” Osamu finishes. Calmly watching his brother he notices Atsumu's face go through several emotions.

Eventually the elder twin settles on, “what should i do ‘samu?” the look on his face resembling one of a kicked puppy. It hurts Osamu to see his brother like this. He can even remember the last time Atsumu came to him for advice, but here he is looking like a lost little boy who wants his mother.

“do what y're good at,'' Osamu lightly chuckles, “talk ta her, dude,” is all he says before he gets up and walks back into Onigiri Miya. Atsumu is left with his thoughts for a little bit longer before he gets up and watches the scene from the front window.

He leans against the wall and watches Osamu wave his arm up, motioning the small party to follow him to his apartment. He can't hear what they are saying, but based on Osamu's face he knows there's no room for anyone to question.

Walking back into the empty restaurant he slowly locks the door worrying about the inevitable. His brother's restaurant is a mess. There are streamers everywhere, some ripped from where they were taped to the wall. Plastic cups litter the tables who's chairs have been stacked away in the back to make more space. His eyes finally land on the bathroom door where you hide.

His heart feels like it's tearing itself in two. Something he hasn't felt in years, but he's older now and he won't lose you. When his grandma passed back then Atsumu covered his pain with what he thought was love. Yet it always ended the same, with his brother drinking away till he passed out. However, he was okay with losing them. It was almost a pain he wanted to feel for not grieving his grandmother like he should have. A torment he thought he deserved.

Then he met you. When he learned you've never been in a relationship, nor a situationship, he felt as though it was a gift from his ancestors. A way for him to learn that he does deserve happiness, but he never thought about the many tests it would come with. He's old enough now to stop running from his problems. You were perfect for him. He wasn't going to lose you now.

“y/n” he says quietly while knocking on the bathroom door, “y/n please open up, please” he begs. There's a small shuffling on the other side that's just enough to keep his thoughts from spiraling further. He takes a deep breath before going up to knock again. As his hand raises, he hears the door click signaling you've unlocked it.

You’ve opened the door just enough to be able to see him. Not fully exiting. “what?” you question softly. Your throat dry from the constant tears. You're careful in noticing how his face morphs into multiple emotions seemingly fighting with his brain and heart.

“please come out, will ya,” he begs once more, hand reaching out for yours. He pulls his bottom lip in as he takes a deep breath. It’s as though the man before you is made of glass - for you to see all of him, and you’ll take it. Even if it is far too late.

Finally stepping out of the bathroom Atsumu is left to see your flushed face obviously reddened by the constant wiping of tears. He swears his heart shattered further. He needs to explain, but his mouth simply won't open, so he gestures to the booth where it all began.

Your miind finally has time to recognize the pounding headache overtaking your body. Hardly allowing you to recognize that the shop is completely empty. Atsumu sits down first then you follow in suit on the opposite side. Resting your eyes for a moment you don't realize that Atsumu has already grabbed you a glass of water for your headache. You politely thank him and take a sip. Your brain and body immediately relaxing at the sign of water.

“I want to ask for you to be patient with me, but I don’t deserve it—” Atsumu starts quietly.

“‘sumu—”

“no, please let me say it all before m’ ego gets in the way,” his face slowly lifts and his eyes go searching for yours. Once they catch he immediately looks away. Not once in this relationship have you seen Atsumu so unconfident. He always walked into every situation with a level of confidence you could only wish to achieve. From day one, he took charge. Always guiding you, being there for you, and all around keeping you safe, but it was obvious sometimes it became too much for even him to keep up with. He'd break down when you weren't around and walk out with a mask.

He knew there were a lot of first for you when this relationship started, and the way he approached all of them made you feel loved. A rare feeling that made you love him all the more. He never out right showed his inner turmoil. Which is why today came as such a shock, but with the way his eyes glossed over and his hands shook you figured today might be the day he finally opens up. “I'm sorry y/n. I really really am,” he says, voice cracking towards the end. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “ I shouldn't ‘ave snapped at ya,” he lets out a sound similar to scoff, yet also laughing at himself, “ I- I've never been good at communicating my feelings very well,” this makes you laugh. No shit.

“ I know, it's obvious, but there was one thing ya should know. I made a promise to m’self, ‘samu, and even my ma. That's how ya know it's serious. From the moment I met ya… I knew ‘ou were the one. I'm not entirely sure how ta explain it, but I wanted no one but y’u, and when ya left this very restaurant. I ran ta Osamu ta ask about y’u, so ya can imagine my disappointment when he said y’u were quiet and all he knew was your order,” He smiles back at the thought, “I- I don't mean i was disappointed ya were quiet by the way,” he rushes out making you smile. You nod your head telling him to continue.

“That day while I was still tryna to understand these new feelings I eventually made a promise to m’self… Y’u were going to be mine, but I told m’self that I will make ya the happiest person on earth. Whatever it takes, and when I finally told ‘samu I was gonna ask ya out. He stared me directly in the eye and said ‘’tsumu ya break her heart i'll kill ya’ and that's when I knew for sure y’u were a gift ta me.” Atsumu’s eyes glass over before he continues, “Ya know, when ya first met my ma she said ta me ‘’honey, she’s a nice girl. Be nice.’ and I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but I know my ma was never proud of my decisions especially when it came ta love. I was stubborn and I would always flee the minute things got difficult, and If i’m being honest I think it was a way to distract myself from all the pain I held in.

My shithead dad left when I was young, so when times got hard on my ma ‘Samu and I would go to my grandma’s.” A tear falls down his face and his leg begins to bounce under the table, “She was an amazing woman, and I’d spent a lot of time with her. I will not lie she was quite the gossip so there were a lot of things I shouldn’t have known…but I did. I knew that my ma just wanted to be loved, and I think from a young age I took that duty upon m’self. To make sure she knew she was loved, and my grandma was proud of me for that.

So, when my grandma passed I started college I figured I didn’t have time to grieve her and I spent a lot of time drownin’ out my sorrows with… sex.” He pauses for a moment, “ I-I noticed how happy it made me, and I figured I’m making these girls feel loved so I must be doing something right, but then things got messy. I spiraled and I swore it off when I got into MSBY, but then I met y’u.

I swear it was like my grandma placed ya here to knock me back into place. She always told me I would make an amazing husband and for some reason that day I met y’u I was reminded of that. I didn’t even know who ya were, but I knew deep down that y’u weren’t just anyone… I never told ya this, but I did start going to therapy after I met ya, and everything and every way I have reacted was genuine, but being here, with everyone, I think I knew ya would start ta see that old side of me that I tried so hard to bury, and I got scared…” by now the tears fall freely down his face, but he refuses to completely break. He’s always had to be the man of the house, but he needs to know that he’s allowed to show his emotions as well. That’s a lot of responsibility for a young boy.

Getting up from your seat, new tears fall from your face as you walk around to the same bench Atsumu sits on. Wrapping your arms around his frame you hold his head to your chest, and he breaks. He cries and his shoulders shake as he lets out the pain of the last several years.

It was obvious since the moment you met him that he was soft on the inside. He’s lost himself over the years like many have, but you’re glad he’s starting to pick up those pieces and put them back together. You squeeze him a little tighter before finally speaking up, “‘Tsumu…thank you for telling me all this. I was in my head a lot. I’m always in my head a lot,” you giggle, still holding him close, “If we want this to work we need to communicate,” you whispered for only him to hear. His head softly nods before he lifts his head up.

“What were ya gonna ask me before?” he whispers back.

You lean closer to him, your noses almost touching. Taking a deep breath you begin, “From the stories, and especially the things Suna was saying I was really beating myself up about how many relationships you’ve had. It’s stupid, It’s just jealousy.” you say, shaking your head.

“No, you’re allowed to feel that way. If we were switched I’d probably be in ma head about it too.” he attempts to calm you down. His hands move to hold yours, squeezing them to let you know that this is real.

“Sometimes I get really upset when I think about…maybe you had girlfriends with sexier bodies than me,” his head shakes, “ or maybe it’s a burden that I don’t always know what I’m doing, like when we kiss,” you finish, his head falls at your statement, but his hands never leaves yours. Now he understands why his statement before was so hurtful. Why can’t he just think about others for once?

You shake his hands to bring his attention back to you, “please don’t beat yourself up over it,” you beg.

He takes a deep breath before bringing one of your hands to his face so he can kiss it. “I hate that I hurt ya, but please do not ever compare yourself to anyone in my past. There’s a reason they’re in the past. Y’u are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Trust me I’ve seen a lotta woman,” He jokes. At that you lightly smack his arm. “I’m kidding, but seriously you are special, and I love you,” He brings your body close, holding you tight to his chest. Your hearts beating as one.

tags:

@mangiswig @fashionloverr846 @dracarysbitch @bbqsauceonmytitties2 @07-lsssaaa @touchmyanarchicblogs @z0mbi3dl @suyaaachin @fairyflorasworld @stellarnathy @kensqueent @gigiiiiislife @mncxbe @gustomagkalatnimicadito @yuminako @girlincrimson @haitanibros0007

IT WORKED!!!

[clawsdevour]

last customer

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, osamu x reader, fluff, not proofread

⠀ೀ * : ,,,

it's cold and frosty out as you made your way down the concrete sidewalk to the brightly lit restaurant. the snow's starting to pile up, each snowflake landing on your flushed cheeks before you're under the roof of the address on your phone.

stiff fingers gripped on the doorhandle as you pushed it open, the warmth of the restaurant immediately rushing towards you as you sighed out of relief as the bell rang at the top of the door.

the ringing caught the owner's attention from the kitchen. sticking his grey head of hair out from the kitchen doorframe, he looked at you with confusion before checking his watch.

"um.. hi!" immersing yourself in the heated restaurant as you stood by the door staring back at his figure.

"hi, i'm sorry we just closed.." his brown eyes peering back at you from his watch with concern as he noticed how cold it must be outside.

"oh- i'm sorry.. i thought i'd arrive before your shop would close," looking down at your shoes wehre your toes are absolutely frozen despite having fluffy socks on before turning your body towards the door that showed the chilling winter night through the glass.

right when you were about to head out as the bell rung due to the movement of the door just slightly moving, the owner calls back at you while you heard the restaurant's air vents turn on.

"wait, since you've come so far in this freezing weather i might as well whip something up!" his deep voice shouted from the kitchen, catching your attention.

you felt bad since he was almost done getting ready to close, but you couldn't turn down his offer. his face was as grey as his hair with a slightly worried expression plastered on his face.

"..okay, sure! i'd love that," your lips jolted into a big smile as the blush on your cold cheeks lit up.

turning your back away from him, his fingers got to work and started scooping up some fresh rice to wash.

his other hand gestured at you to have a seat right in front of him where you can watch him work his magic.

"soo.. what would you recommend chef?" putting your arms on the table and leaning in to examine his skills at work like a curious cat.

his brows just so slightly raise when he notices your gaze upon him. looking up from the rice pot he mumbles out a mmm.. to think, what would be nice and warm to suit this weather? he thought to himself thinking about what would be the best to offer.

"hmmm i'd say the salmon yaki onigiri. it's got a crispy fried outside with some delicious fresh salmon on the inside," his droopy eyes giving you a gentle smile as he works relentlessly at the rice.

pouring out the starchy water to refill the pot before he plugs the wire into the rice cooker, he's leaning on the counter to make some small talk.

"what brings you here so late? and in the freezing snow?" taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair.

"just felt like trying a new restaurant.. in the middle of winter," you can't stop holding eye contact with his deep brown eyes that drew you in.

pausing for a second as you two stared, you had to break it up, "..oh! i'm y/n by the way. nice to meet you..?"

"osamu miya, like atsumu miya's twin brother" nodding his head as he took a rag to wipe his wet hands with before walking into the fridge to grab fresh orange salmon out.

"you're gonna love this dish," placing the slab of fish onto the cutting board while taking out his knives to sharpen.

masterlist here

[lunamochii]

you're the blue text ; they're the gray/grey text

bokuto, atsumu, osamu, kuroo, oikawa, suna, sugawara, sachiro

[mrs-kodzuken]

embers of love ⟢ atsumu m.

warnings: forgetful!tsumu, girlfriend!reader, arguments, mentions of best friend!osamu and bestfriend!suna, kissing-ass tsum tsum, fixing a relationship, mentions of proposing, cussing, angst to fluff to smut at the end (unprotected sex, creampie, rough but loving)

It's been two weeks since you've last had an actual, meaningful conversation or interaction with Atsumu. Being his girlfriend of six years, you had expected that he would always be attentive to his career more than you. Honestly, his career was very important to him, and you could see in some aspects if he slacked just a smidge with giving love. Some.

But this, this was ridiculous for him to be doing. You waited impatiently for Atsumu Miya to return home. The house you guys put a down payment for when things got rather serious, and you both realized that it is way better coming home to a home instead of an apartment.

You've known 'Tsumu since you guys were second years and then you both fell in love. Who knew that such young, sweet, innocent love would get you to where you are today?

You heard keys jangling into the keyhole of the front door and you remained in your spot on the couch you both went shopping for forever ago. The blonde man walked in, set his keys down on the tray, took off his shoes and started walking towards the bedroom.

It was as if he didn't realize you were even there. He probably didn't, the exhaustion radiating off of him in waves. It made you feel bad for what you were about to bring up, but it needed to be talked about before you cracked and brought hell to him.

"Atsumu," Your voice spoke out into the room, he stopped in his tracks. "We need to talk." You firmly demanded of the professional volleyball player.

He sighed, "Y/n, can we jus’ do this 'nother time? I'm fuckin' tired." His aggravated tone tore through you, fueling your anger even more.

Your face hardened as he tried to continue walking and ignore you.

"Miya, give me one reason why I should stay with your ass right now." You finally said the words you were so scared to say weeks back. However, you're done now, there's no going back for what you just said.

"’Scuse me?" He whipped around so fast, demanding to know where this suddenly came from. Not only had you referred to him as his last name but, you had spoken about leaving him? Were you out of your mind?

"You heard me. I'm tired of this shit." Your fists balled up, standing from your seat on the couch. You finally had his attention, and you weren't going to let it go now.

"What shit? Me goin’ ta work every single day ta provide a life fer us that ya wanted?" He retorted, crossing his arms obviously not wanting to have this conversation.

"Oh wow! You're so big and strong for going to work every day! I do the same fucking shit too, you ass. That's not what this is about. This is about how I haven't properly talked to you in two weeks and then before that it was almost a month!"

"Atsumu, I am your girlfriend. We've been together for six fucking years! Don't you think I'd want to see you, talk with you, love you?" You sounded exasperated with having to explain yourself as if he didn't see what had been going on through tired eyes.

"Ya know how important my volleyball career is 'ta me. 'S not my fault ya can't handle bein' by yerself." He scoffed, his words like ice to you.

You could've sworn your eye just twitched in anger.

"Why is this going over your head you blonde asshole. I'm saying that if you still want me here, want me to have my part in this relationship, then you also have to have yours." You seethed at him, entirely over his recent behavior because you didn't deserve it.

"I do, yer just so fuckin' needy. Dont'cha think that I should get a fuckin' break from havin' to do unnecessary shit when I hav'ta work late 'nd get up early?" His voice was beyond tired and ready to climb in bed and sleep. It was loud, bouncing off the walls and bouncing right into your ears.

Oh, he wanted to get loud.

"So, I'm needy now? Wanting the bare fucking minimum from a man who can't even see past his own actions to realize that he's about to be single is needy?" You scoffed at him, "I didn't realize that actually wanting you to be caring like how you were in high school was deemed unnecessary." You shouted, pushing past him to the bedroom, done with this conversation.

You had a bag packed already; it wasn't everything you owned because you didn't expect that you would actually get into a predicament like this. Perhaps staying one night over at a friend's place, not this.

You couldn't stand the tears that gathered in your eyes as you gripped your bag and tried to rush out of there. This has to be the worst argument yet.

"Now where tha' hell you think yer goin'?" He tried blocking your way, obviously still pissed and wanting to continue even if it didn't get anywhere. A habit that he possessed since high school that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him to let go of it.

"Leaving." You didn't spare him a glance as you put on your shoes and grabbed a coat.

"Hah, don't fuck tha' first man ya see." He ridiculed, not caring that you were leaving because of him in the first place.

"Fuck you, Miya!" It sounded wobbly and raw, but you said it. You slammed the door shut and with it your heartbreak of the man you desperately loved and wanted to love you.

With a dial of your phone, you called someone who'd always let you crash at his place.

"Hello?" Suna's voice answered over the phone.

"Rin, can I please stay over tonight?" Your voice cracking, you knew you had to pull yourself together because this was the first time you've left like this and called Suna like this before.

"You're always welcomed here, you know that. What's wrong?" He asked, shuffling on the other side of the phone made you pause for a bit.

"'Tsumu and I had a bad argument." You didn't really want to get into it all over the phone, but it was almost a ten-minute walk to get to Suna's from your house.

Rin cursed under his breath and let out some other obscenities about Atsumu before speaking on the line, "You can stay here as long as you want, so don't worry. Have you talked to 'Samu yet?"

"No, no. Your house is closer and it, you know, it just happened and stuff so." You swallowed thickly, trying not to cry again over the hurtful words Atsumu is capable of.

"Okay, well, I'll be here and put the kettle on too. Want me to stay on the phone?"

"No, it's okay, Sunarin. Bye." You ended the phone call, using the last bit of time that you had to walk to his house to collect yourself.

You were sure that 'Tsumu didn't give two shits where you were right now, those hurtful words he said coming to the front of your mind. It was horrible to think that with a small conversation the behavior could have been fixed from him. It's not the first time either.

Fighting with Atsumu was pointless half of the time. He liked to be hurtful; he liked when it would get so bad too because he could say it was the heat of the moment instead of taking accountability. That really was a deciding factor if you did go the route of breaking things off with him.

God, that physically hurt your heart to the extreme.

Finally, you were at a safe haven for now. You didn't bother knocking on Rin's door, knowing he left it unlocked for you. You could feel the warmth of his house and it held a familiar smell too, like a home away from home.

"Rin?" You called, taking off your shoes and setting the barely packed bag at the entrance of the home.

"In here, Y/n." Rin spoke from the kitchen, nonetheless probably had the kettle on and tea ready for you.

Before even getting two steps into the room, you were engulfed in a tight hug. Rin was never one to really give hugs, only in special situations like this one for example.

"Wanna talk about it over your favorite tea that your best friend made for you because he cares?" Rin asked into your hair, trying to gauge your emotional state right now.

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine." You replied, not trying to let the new line of tears fall.

Within twenty minutes you were done explaining how long you've felt neglected by 'Tsumu and you hated using that word too. After thirty minutes you were trying to get Rin to not call Osamu, which would just make things worse for you.

"'Samu, you need to talk some sense into your shitty twin." Were the only words spoken by Rin before you tried grabbing the phone from him. That's when you got a facetime call from Osamu.

"Ugh, now look at what you've done. You made him facetime us." You rolled your reddish eyes at Suna who just put his hands up in defense.

"What happened, Y/n?" Osamu's face showed up on the phone screen, concerned tracing over his features most likely due to your appearance, you thought.

You sighed, "It's just 'Tsumu. We had a bad argument." You didn't really want to go into it in depth like you did with Suna only because looking at 'Samu was like staring Atsumu in the eyes.

"How bad? Need me ta' talk some sense inta' him fer ya?" The phone screen started blurring a bit as you watched Osamu start getting up and shuffling around.

"No!" You cleared your throat from embarrassment. "I mean, no 'Samu, that won't be necessary, okay? He just said some mean words and I did too so it's not like I'm all innocent either." You eluded eye contact to phone 'Samu until Rin shouted from behind you.

"Yeah, but he told her not to fuck any man she sees when she left, 'Samu." Rin's irritated voice spoke right after your own.

"Oh, that sonofa--don't worry, Y/n. I gotcha." And with that, the facetime call hung up. You stared at the black screen, not sure of what to do now either.

You groaned, "Rin, I don't want to think anymore tonight." You slumped on the expensive couch that he had. It had such a luxurious and soft velvet feeling, which could definitely be able to easily put you to sleep.

"Need me to get the drinks?" He asked, gesturing at the kitchen. Rin had his own bar in his house for some reason. It never failed to amaze you on all the hobbies he was able to pick up, and for this one it was bartending at his house.

"I'm good. I'm just going to shower and sleep, if that's fine. I don't want to deal with Miya's' shit anymore." And that made you pause. Did you really not want to deal with him anymore or was it his behavior?

Quite frankly you didn't know but you'd rather get black out drunk than think about it.

"Okay, well you know where everything is so. I'll be around if you need me. I'm here for you." Sunarin glanced back at you once more before leaving and it brought back memories of when you both were in high school too.

Suna was always there for you. Always knew how to crack you up and comfort you when you were sad. He's always been the best, especially when he welcomed you into the Miya twin's antics too.

While you were getting ready to sleep your sorrows away, Atsumu was ten minutes away wondering when you were going to come home. He's too proud to send you a text first of course, especially after those malicious words to you that he never thought he'd say to you.

He sat on the couch with his phone in his hand, his hair a mess after running his fingers through it to keep him calm. He was hesitant to text or call you to ask if you were coming home or going to leave him. That thought made his heart drop into his ass. So, he was about to dial the next best thing, his twin.

That's when he got a call himself from none other than his own twin. The blonde cursed under his breath, knowing you probably talked to 'Samu first.

"Hey, 'Samu."

"Don't 'Hey, 'Samu' me. I heard what ya said to Y/n. Now what tha fuck were ya thinkin' talkin' to a woman like that?" Osamu's voice came out in such an irritated, almost angry tone that it took aback Atsumu.

"She's tha one who talked 'bout leavin' me! 'Samu, is she at yer place? S’gettin' late, and she hasn't come back yet." He couldn't help but to run another hand into his already messed up hair.

"'Tsumu, get yer shit together or she's gonna fuckin' leave yer ass. And quite frankly? I don't blame 'er. Ya were bein' a real piece of dickwad shit ya'know?" 'Samu scoffed on the other side of the phone as Atsumu tried to beg once again of where you were at.

"'Samu, I know that okay?" He got up and paced around the living room. "I just, God, I don't know how ta' get her ta' forgive me when I was bein' like that."

"'M not goin' to give you all tha answers but ya need to make it up to her and actually be sincere about it. Now stop messin' around, you already bought a ring, dumbass. Ya watch yerself too, there's plenty of guys who know how to treat a woman right."

Before Atsumu could say anything or question what his brother meant by that, he heard the familiar beeping of the phone call ending.

"What tha fuck?" 'Tsumu thought aloud, even though there was no one home to hear him.

Before Atsumu could even let his brain process, his body was up and moving around. Soon, he realized he was making a little get-away for the two of you guys. It was like he woke up from a hazy dream he was sleeping in and needed to take control before he lost someone that he never thought he'd lose.

Soon enough, a get-away was planned for the two of you and Atsumu had made sure enough to spoil the hell out of you by leaving a lot of detailed instructions too.

He paid for a suite hotel room, ordered your favorite bouquet of flowers to surprise you in the bathroom, arranged a spa day for the two of you and a manicure and pedicure especially for you, champagne, and dinner reservations every night.

He also rented your favorite movies, shitty snack foods that you love, and he hates, rose petals in the room for when you both arrive and fake candles because he didn't want to accidentally burn down the room.

He only hoped that you wouldn't leave him the next time he saw you. Atsumu prayed to anything and everything that he would get another chance and be able to apologize to you before you could even say anything.

After collecting everything he needs and packing a bag for you and him, he was on his way to Suna's, determined to come to you and apologize the right way.

Atsumu knew you like the back of his hand, if you weren't with 'Samu then you were with Suna. The more he starts to think about how much he's missed you and hasn't really seen or talked with you in a while, it hurts. He could see why you wanted to dump his ass.

He had to make it right; he thought after he quickly parked and got out of the car. His skin chilled not only because of the weather but knowing you probably walked through this upset after he said words he wishes he could take back now.

Banging on the door, he didn't waste any time calling for you, "Sunarin! Open up, I know Y/n's in there!" He shouted, not caring that it was well late into the night either.

After a few moments of dogs barking and a couple front porch lights turning on due to his loudness, the door finally opened. Instead of Suna, like Atsumu originally thought, it was you instead.

The harsh knocking woke you up first since you had been sleeping on the couch and it's not like you could ignore it either. 'Tsumu was very adamant about things like this.

You opened the door quickly to cease his pounding on it and was met with familiar eyes that seemed to long for you.

"What do you want?" You cut to the chase, not wanting to hear the familiar sweet-talk he would always use to get out of you being frustrated with him.

"I'm-I'm here ta apologize ta ya Y/n." Atsumu's heart was pounding at the sight of you. Now he always thought you were beyond gorgeous but right now with your hair a mess and red, tired eyes he couldn't help but to feel terrible because he was the cause of this. Of your pain.

"Don't want to hear." You said, shutting the door, planning to ignore his advance of receiving your forgiveness. That is, until his foot was blocking the doorway.

"Please, please Y/n. Jus' let me apologize fer hurtin' ya. Please." He begged, wearing down at your already weary state. You were supposed to be pissed at him for the shit he's caused you, granted you have thought about ending things but now you're not so sure.

"Fine," You stated, leaving the door cracked to where you could shut it if needed be.

"Thank ya," He took a deep breath in before continuing. "I realized after ya left that I was bein' petty about our argument, and even before then too. I haven't been tha best boyfriend lately 'nd you deserve better from me. I'm goin’ ta be better fer ya startin' right now."

The emotion in his eyes as he started became thicker and so did the tightness in your throat. This was all you wanted, a promise that he would be better for you, so you didn't have to beg him to love you like you needed.

You didn't say anything, "I'm sorry fer spoutin' some shit like I did before ya left. I was jus' so mad and exhausted which isn't an excuse, I know." He ran a hand through his hair like earlier.

"I jus' hope ya can forgive me fer bein' so stupid. I realized that I could actually lose ya, yaknow? And that—it really scared me." He finished, hope and nervousness filling his eyes as he waited for a response, a movement, anything from you.

You took a sharp intake of air, "I was going to leave you, you know. I was tired of your shit and being treated like shit from you. I won't hesitate anymore the next time something like this happens, I'll just leave." You glared at the man who has your heart. You didn't want to forgive him but something so small, so tiny had told you to.

Atsumu looked so relieved as he blew out a sigh. "Thank ya, hon. Really. Thank ya so much." He reached through the door opening and hugged a bit of you that he could get.

Seeing your rugged state and blotchy eyes was something he never wanted to see again, especially if he was the cause of it.

"Can ya come with me?" He asked, in hopes of you saying yes. Since you had already stated that you weren't leaving him, his other part of treating you well was still needed to do.

You glanced backwards to make sure you both haven't woken up Suna and then nodded. You presumed that continuing what else that was supposed to happen would be best at your house instead of Suna's.

As you gathered your bag and folded the blanket on the couch, you sent Rin a quick text that you were headed home and would update him.

Getting into the warm car made you fight back the urge to fall asleep, knowing that you would be home within less than five minutes. However, that didn't stop the nulling of the ride from easing you to rest again.

Atsumu was thankful that you had fallen asleep in the car. The hotel was a few towns over, and he didn't really want to explain to you why he was taking a different route. Not to mention that it was the middle of the night too.

He was becoming tired after the hour and a half drive, but he fought to stay awake to check into the hotel and surprise you.

"Honey, hon, wake up." He nudged your shoulder, trying to wake you up gently.

"Hm? Are we home?" You asked, peeling your eyes open, except you weren't in your driveway. You were at a hotel; it was a very tall and large building at that too.

"Atsumu, why are we at a hotel?" You suspiciously asked, an eyebrow raised hoping that he didn't think he was getting lucky just because you forgave his behavior.

"Its'a surprise, come on honey. The valets are goin' to park our car fer us." He said, smiling and gathered a suitcase that you didn't even realize was in the backseat.

You followed along with your brows furrowed and confusion written all over your face. After checking in and getting the room key, Atsumu handed it to you, "I'll carry yer backpack too, ya can get the door, hon."

You assumed he was trying to be sweet and kiss ass since he hurt you but at the same time you felt bad because you had yet to apologize for your hurtful words to him as well.

The carpet of the floors was gentle as you walked down the long hallway and finally reached your room. Number 528 on the gold plate of the door.

You swiped the room key card, and the click was heard as you pushed open the ungodly heavy door. Immediately, you gasped.

The room was absolutely beautiful, red rose petals were scattered throughout the room, and fake candles lit up around the room as well. The lavender scent cascaded through it too, your eyes began to water, you couldn't believe that this was all for you.

"'Tsumu, did you do all of this?" You asked, breathlessly, your voice in your throat hitched as you turned towards him.

"Yes, I did. M’sorry fer hurting ya, hon, I promise. I'll be better fer ya from now on. I swear." You closed the distance between you and him as he let go of the door and it shut.

"I'm sorry too. I also said some hurtful words that I promise I didn't mean. I was just angry and wanted to be treated better by you." You sincerely said, happy now that apologies were out of the way, and he had gone out of his way to plan something like this for you.

"What about practice tomorrow?" You pulled back from the hug you had engulfed him in.

"I took some days offa work fer ya." He smirked his usual, "I gotta make sure ya feel loved yaknow?" Atsumu picked you up and carried you to the bed.

The white bedsheets were a stark contrast from the red rose petals you started playing with. 'Tsumu un-did the covers for you and tucked you in not before shutting the lights and getting in himself.

"I'm sorry this all happened so late, we should sleep in." He murmured from behind you. His warmth radiates like a heater to put you to sleep.

You didn't say anything about the half hard thing poking you in the back as you drifted off to sleep. Neither did 'Tsumu as he shifted his hips away from your ass to make you understand that he didn't expect sex from you.

"S'okay 'Tsumu." You mumbled before drifting to sleep with him holding you. He was glad you both made up, but he was more so excited to treat you well over these next few days.

After four days of gifts, love, and sweet-talking from Atsumu, you were getting needy, and you both knew it. It had started with him treating you to dinner every single night, breakfast in bed, kisses and random hip grabs throughout the days and even a spa day too.

It was like falling in love all over again from high school. This was the love you craved from your boyfriend. And naturally, it made you want to give him something special. Atsumu hadn't even been the slightest bit sexual with you since this little get-away had started, and that makes you feel all the wilder.

That's how you got yourself in the predicament now. You both were back into the hotel, getting changed for bed. You specifically wore your sexiest pajamas just for his eyes. He told you that tonight was a movie and snack night instead of fancy dining. You were all for it and enjoyed every second of being with him.

However, halfway through the movie, you couldn't help but to shift a lot more. Not really paying attention to the movie but to how you could tell you were having an effect on Atsumu.

You could see it as his jaw clenched and his eyes were fixated on the movie instead of how you were purposefully rubbing your ass on him with the excuse that you're just getting settled.

The dam broke for him and you when you didn't stop grinding on him but instead was using him to get yourself off and a moan slipped out. Suddenly the TV was shut off and you opened your lidded eyes to look over at your boyfriend.

"Y/n. What...?" Atsumu choked out, understandably trying to hold off on the need to make love to you.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsumu. I just want you so bad," You mewled, happy with the work you meticulously planned.

"Ya do? God, fuck, I've been waitin' fer ya ta say somethin'." Atsumu groaned out, as you gave him consent to whatever was about to happen between the two of you.

His strong hands flipped you around to your back and you gasped, forgetting that being a volleyball planner and hitting the gym a lot can cause him to manhandle you.

It's definitely been a while since you both have had sex.

He stuck a hand in your pajama shorts, realizing that you hadn't even put on any underwear either and groaned with need. His cock was painstakingly hard by now from your earlier ministrations.

"Fuck, yer so hot. So needy fer not wearin' any panties too." He chuckled with need.

Soon, you were positioned into a mating press, your legs folded against your naked chest. Above you, Atsumu was roughly giving you the pleasure you needed because with every thrust he gave, his trimmed pubic hair would rub your clit.

You couldn't help the moans that he tore out of you, missing the way he hurts you so bad by going a bit too hard.

"Uhg, fuck, I can't-" You moan to Atsumu, his eyes directly focused on the way his cock disappears inside of your pussy and the white ring you've formed on him.

God, he loved you.

"Yes, ya can. Yer not cummin' yet," He groaned as you squeezed him more when he started rubbing your clit in circles, which made your hips buck and head thrown back.

"Fuck, fuck, ah-" Atsumu's hips stuttered, the pleasure becoming too much and was on the brink of finishing inside your fertile cunt.

When your orgasm crashed onto you, your body shook, and legs tried to flail under his grasp. The tightness eventually stopped ‘Tsumu's thrusts as his hips bucked into yours as he came. You both tried to catch your breath but before Atsumu could stop his mouth he said, "Marry me." breathlessly to you.

Your head snapped out of the fog it was trapped in, and you widen your eyes, "What?" You finally out, your surprise of what he said taking over the moment.

"Marry me, Y/n. I love ya." Atsumu said, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, his cock still inside of you, and the sweat from your bodies becoming much too hot.

"This isn't tha romantic moment I had planned, but m’serious 'bout marryin' ya." He firmly stated his hands on your hips as he gently pulled out of you to delicately pull you close to him.

"Uh, yes!" You laughed into his chest, what a dork.

You weren't expecting him to propose, especially when he got out of bed and reached into his black dress pants pocket and pulled out a fucking ring.

A huge ring at that.

Now your mouth was agape, you hadn't expected him to have actually bought the ring already. You teared up when he asked if you wanted to put it on, to which you nodded.

It fit like a glove; you were touched.

"I love you so much 'Tsumu, so much."

a/n: i hope you guys liked this! it was almost 5k words lol, i hope tsum tsum wasn't too ooc <3

[foreveia]

snow one like you ⤨ miya atsumu

⨭ genre; college!au, frat!au, enemies to lovers!trope (sort of)

⨭ pairing; miya atsumu x f!reader

⨭ word count; 16.4k

⨭ descriptions; you're convinced that miya atsumu is the world's biggest fuckboy asshole, and yet, when the iota nu alpha (ina)'s exec board and your sorority's exec board go on winter break together, you come to prove that there really is a thin line between hate and something else.

⨭ warnings; alcohol, profanity, sexual innuendos, LOTS of dick jokes

⨭ a/n; i have been FIENDING to write frat boy! & fuckboy!atsumu bro so here's the 'tsumu redemption story lmfao i am very proud of coming up w greek letter versions of the hq teams. hope u love seeing a fuckboy conversion story as much as i do mwah :)

song i listened to writing this: 'tsunami' by niki

one.

Winter break should have been perfect. 

Here’s what should have happened: (1) you, your sorority’s executive board, and an obsessive amount of luggage for a two week break all pile into Mao’s sexy black Jeep; (2) drive six and a half hours up to the cute, girly AirBnB you rented for this; (3) sleep in until 1 PM every day and wake up in the softest sheets ever; (4) spend the whole winter break snowboarding down black diamonds and drinking mimosas in the hot tub. You even treated yourself to a shopping spree in preparation for it; four sets of pink bikinis and matching silk pajamas for the girls had put a significant dent in your bank balance but who cares because it was meant for your perfect winter break.

It could’ve been perfect. It should’ve been perfect. 

But here you are instead, the day after finals on what could have been a lovely end to the first half of your junior year but instead is the start of an imminently torturous two weeks, standing at the curb of your university apartment building, shivering your absolute fucking ass off in just a hoodie because Aran’s rental car was delayed an hour for pick up. All your favorite winter wear is already packed into the massive duffel bag by your feet, stuffed to the absolute brim with just one of your new bikinis (since apparently, you had to do bonding activities now), plain pajama sets (the girls worried the others would feel left out), and everything you could ever need to commit a murder and get away with it. 

Your planned victim? Atsumu Miya, the official worst human being on Earth.

This belief is confirmed by the blue 2012 Hyundai you’ve been waiting on finally rolling up, and the back door popping open to reveal Atsumu, sprawled across the three seats as if he owns the place. He looks as if he plans on you feeding him grapes and massaging his feet during the ride there; you want to punch him in the jaw. His eyes flick up, lazily scanning you from head to toe with a smirk that could infuriate a saint.

“Awh, look who’s here to grace us with her presence,” he drawls, not bothering to move an inch. “So princess, ready to fall in love with me yet?”

You grit your teeth, forcing a smile that’s more a baring of teeth. Mentally, you scratch out human—because he’s actually closer to a demon. 

“In your fantasies,” you scoff, heaving your duffel bag into the trunk with more force than necessary. The trunk is a struggle to close because it’s already overflowing with way more baggage than is needed for a winter break trip.

He chuckles, an irritating sound that grates on your last nerve. “Oh, I have plenty of those, babe. You’re just usually not wearin’ clothes in ‘em.” 

Yep, it’s confirmed. You’re going to kill Atsumu. 

Unfortunately, Yui Michimiya, the sorority president and apparently shotgun, rolls down the window before you get the opportunity to strangle him right then and there. “Y/N, get in the car, we have to go! Mao and them are already on their way there.” 

You sputter. “I’m stuck in the back with him? Are you kidding?”

“Aran is driving the first three hours, and then I’m switching with him. We don’t have time for this.”

“What, so I not only have to share my winter break with the fucking foxes, but now I’m backseat? Why didn’t you just let me go with the other girls, Yui?” you whine. You know you’re being childish, but you don’t care. This is practically a matter of life or death (albeit not yours—for Atsumu). 

Yui’s eyes dart between you and Atsumu, her lips pressed into a thin line as she navigates the tension with the ease of a seasoned diplomat. “Look, I know you two have your... differences, but we’ve got a schedule to keep. It’s a long drive, and we can’t afford to start late. You two both need to just suck it up, okay? It’s just a few hours.”

You glance at Atsumu, who’s now sporting a grin that suggests he’s already won whatever game he thinks you’re playing. The prospect of spending hours confined in a car with him makes your skin crawl, but with a resigned sigh, you grab the rest of your gear and slide into the backseat. The door slams shut, sealing your fate. You’re already sad for your future self.

Atsumu shifts, making a show of spreading out even more, his smirk never faltering. “Are ya feelin’ cozy, sweetheart?” he teases, nudging you with his knees as his legs open so far he’s past the empty center console.

“Your tiny dick does not need that much room. Now get your legs away from mine before I chop them off and throw them in the woods behind our cabin.”

“Wow, princess, didn’t think 8 inches was tiny in your book. Or should I say size queen?”

This is officially the worst winter break of your life.

When Chizuru, the sorority secretary, had first proposed the idea of sharing your annual break retreat with a fraternity executive board, you thought she was joking. And then when Mao, the internal vice president, said it was a lovely plan so that both parties could have bigger facilities and more funds, you begged for it to be any other fraternity. And then finally, when Yui officially confirmed that your retreat would be a joint trip with Iota Nu Alpha (INA)’s five executive members, you actually lost your mind. 

Because Iota Nu Alpha, while being a generally very respectable fraternity with a decent national establishment and well-regarded chapter on your campus, contains a particular flaw: a certain external vice president who is the actual devil and goes by the earthling name of Atsumu Miya. 

The truth is that you’re not a very violent person—you don’t even knowingly kill bugs, much less go on mental tangents fantasizing about someone’s downfall. Before freshman year of college, you wouldn’t have ever believed that you’d be on the verge of homicidal rage just from the sound of someone’s voice. 

But Atsumu truly is a special case because he has an innate talent for bringing out the worst in you. Every smirk, every condescending comment, every casual brush of his arm against yours feels like a deliberate provocation, and it has ever since you first met him in a frat basement during your freshman year. Deciding he was nothing but bad news, you had tried to distance yourself from him, but somehow, he continues to be pulled back in everywhere: from being chemistry lab partners in your freshman spring to being paired during the Greek life matchups to being forced to take him to your sophomore sorority formal because your initial date ghosted last minute, for some reason, the universe hates you and you literally cannot escape him. 

Atsumu Miya spends half his time flirting with you and the other half pissing you off; he’s a thorn in your side that simply will not budge. He’s evidently already made it his mission to ruin your break before it’s even started, so that’s just reason #13092 of why he is in fact the bane of your existence.

The car pulls away from the curb, and Aran, INA’s secretary, adjusts the rearview mirror to glance back at the two of you. “Let’s try to keep it civil, alright? We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

Atsumu snickers and you roll your eyes, keeping your gaze trained on what’s outside the window. The cityscape blurs past, a mix of buildings and holiday lights from tourist spots in the area.

If you had been in Mao’s car right now, accompanied by her and two tolerable members of the fraternity, you’d probably be excited, chattering on and on about all the fun you were going to have. But now, the only thing you can think about is how to survive the next few hours—and then the next two weeks—without throttling the blonde asshole sitting next to you. 

“Y’know, princess,” Atsumu says after a few minutes of blessed quiet, “Ain’t it funny how ya swore in freshman year you’re never speakin’ to me again? And yet here we are.”

You don’t bother looking at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, hilarious. It’s the comedy of the century how you’ve become an inescapable part of my college life. What’s next? Are you planning to haunt my dreams too?”

Atsumu’s grin widens, undeterred by your sarcasm. “Are ya sayin’ you wanna sleep with me? Awh, at least buy me dinner first.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean, as ya wish. Or I can fuck you, I don’t mind changin’ up positions.”

You glare at him, but the intensity of your anger is somewhat mitigated by the fact that you’re squished in the backseat, your knees almost touching his. Yui and Aran exchange a glance in the front, clearly relieved that the bickering hasn’t escalated to physical violence—yet.

You think they shouldn’t be relieved yet. With the way Atsumu is currently simpering at you, it won’t be long before you act on your deep urge to punch him.

two.

The first few hours of the drive pass. You try to ignore Atsumu as much as possible, staring out the window and counting the trees as they whip by; still, he keeps saying stupid things and making you acknowledge them because they’re just that stupid. He just has the miraculous ability to pull you out of your head and whenever he speaks, he becomes all you can think about (because you’re so enraged by his audacity). Occasionally, you catch snippets of Yui and Aran’s conversation, but their voices are low, and you’re too wrapped up in your own thoughts and debates to pay much attention.

And then you notice the snow outside. You’re far enough outside of Tokyo now where the weather has begun to change; it is so incredibly beautiful to see the snowflakes flying down gently as the car flies past the snow-dusted neighborhoods and you can’t help but press your forehead against the cool glass, fascinated. You haven’t seen snowfall this hard in so long, and you are enthralled by it. It’s like the universe itself is trying to soften your mood, scattering diamonds across the landscape to distract you from the simmering tension inside the car. Even Atsumu seems momentarily quiet, his usual remarks on pause as he gazes out his own window.

The serene moment, however, is shattered when Aran suddenly pipes up, “We’re going to make a quick stop in Sendai. Need to stretch our legs and maybe grab some snacks. Anyone need anything specific?”

“Head from the princess.”

“A break from Atsumu.”

Yui snaps, evidently reaching her limit. “Okay, that’s enough. Everyone out.”

The car pulls into a convenience store parking lot, and the group disbands for a brief respite from the confined space: Aran goes to refill the tank, Atsumu and Yui head inside the store, and you trail behind in the lot. You step out, taking in the crisp, cold air, feeling it sting your lungs—a welcome pain compared to the annoyance of dealing with Atsumu. Still, you’ve made it this far; you refuse to allow his presence to deter you from enjoying the snow. 

The break is brief, and soon everyone is piling back into the car, arms laden with snacks and drinks. Atsumu tosses you a pack of peach gummies with a smug look. “Don’t say I never do anything nice for ya.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Thanks?” you say, but it comes out more like a question; you’re struck by the gesture but even more so by the fact that he in fact had gotten your favorite candy. “How’d you know I liked these?”

“Oh, I just got them ‘cause they’re peaches. And I like your ass.”

Ah, there he goes, opening his big mouth and ruining everything. 

His smirk widens, and he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Y’know, if yer cold, they say body heat is the best way to stay warm. Maybe we should try—”

You shove him away. “Keep your theories to yourself. I’m not interested.” You’re frowning again, staring outside the window with a refreshed intensity. 

It’s infuriating how he does nice things as if he cares about you when he’s really just the world’s biggest fuckboy. He is pretty and he knows it, so it’s not some random mistake that he spends half his time charming girls into dropping their panties. In a fraternity already known for being Man Sluts™, he really does stand out as the biggest one of all because everywhere Miya Atsumu goes, broken hearts inevitably follow.

He grins as if your hostility is just another game for him to win—because he’s an instigator, he doesn’t let up. “C’mon, we’re stuck together anyway. Might as well get close, babe.” His tone is mocking, and you can feel his eyes on you even with your gaze fixed firmly out the window.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Why? ‘Cause ya know ya like it?”

“Because I have a name, Atsumu,” you snap, plugging in your earbuds and turning up your music loud enough to drown out everything and everyone (and especially Atsumu) around you.

Yui and Aran sigh. They had been the only ones to agree to take you two, and even their patience is wearing thin. The rest of the drive to the AirBnB continues in a similarly miserable pattern—moments of near silence punctuated by Atsumu’s insufferable comments and your equally sharp retorts. By the time you arrive, everyone’s a little cranky except Atsumu, as obnoxiously cheery as ever.

The sole saving grace is that the cabin is just as charming as you’d hoped.

With the INA’s additional funds, the AirBnB is significantly nicer than any you’ve stayed at before. Nestled in a small clearing, it’s a picturesque retreat with smoke gently curling from the chimney and warm lights glowing from the windows: altogether, it’s a two-story, wood-paneled beauty that looks like it was plucked straight from a Christmas postcard. The surrounding forest is peaceful, there’s a gorgeously still lake just past the trees, and the snow-covered opening glistens under the setting sun as the car finally comes to a slow in the stone-lined parking space. 

You step out of the car, stretching your legs and taking a deep breath; the thin snow sinks under your sneakers as you retrieve your duffel bag from the trunk. Atsumu, of course, makes a show of grabbing his own luggage with exaggerated effort, smirking at you as he hefts a comically oversized yellow suitcase over his shoulder.

“Need any help, princess?” he asks, his tone dripping with mock concern.

“I got it, thanks,” you reply curtly, not bothering to mask your irritation. You start towards the cabin, eager to claim your room and escape the tension of the car ride.

Inside is even cozier than it looked from the outside. The living room has a large stone fireplace, plush leather couches, and a comforting red-brick aesthetic; the kitchen is spacious and modern, with a large island perfect for group meals. The centerpiece of the house is the tall Christmas tree in the center, already adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments; there are no gifts under the tree yet, however, because Chizuru has made one of the ongoing activities for the trip to sneakily buy or make everyone else a gift. They’ll show up, little by little, over the break, but you imagine by the time Christmas actually rolls around, it’ll be overflowing.

Mao and Kita, the two other drivers, have both arrived with their cohorts, so the cabin is officially full of life. Both the fraternity e-board and sorority e-board are exploring the amenities; you know from the listing that there’s a game room and hot tub somewhere, so you’re sure they’re seeking those out.

You, however, are focused on something else. You’re too busy looking for the room Chizuru has assigned you, praying to every god you know that you aren’t placed near the human embodiment of a rash. 

When you find your room, you drop your bag at your feet and sigh peacefully. It’s a single on the short end of the hallway, with a queen-sized bed and a lovely balcony that overlooks the snowy forest. There’s only one other room on this end, and what are the chances of that being—

“Oi, princess, I guess we’re neighbors!” Atsumu whoops, walking towards you from down the hall, waving dramatically and now lugging two suitcases, his obnoxious yellow one and an identical one in gray.

Apparently a hundred percent. The world does in fact hate you, and you’re sure now that this is definitely going to be the worst winter break you’ve ever had.

three.

It turns out that not only is Atsumu loud when you’re awake, but he’s loud when you’re trying to sleep too. 

The walls of the cabin are remarkably thin for the whole aesthetic being wood-planks and brick, so much of your first night is spent with your pillow pressed over your head, trying desperately to drown out the loud conversations echoing from next door. The Miya twins are sharing the double room next to you, and despite your best attempts to muffle them, apparently Atsumu speaks at the volume of a F9 fighter jet, because you can hear every time he laughs. 

When you see the clock tick past 1 AM and they still haven’t stopped talking, you are done.

You give up on the idea of them shutting up on their own, and you need sleep—you’re an absolute terror without it. So you do the only thing you can think to do: get up out of bed, march yourself over there, bang on the door and demand them to please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. 

You bang on the door with more force than you intended, each knock echoing down the hallway (you’re thankful the other rooms are on the opposite end). After a few seconds that feel like forever, the noise inside finally ceases, and the door swings open.

There stands Osamu, wearing nothing but a pair of gray boxers with a simultaneously perplexed and annoyed expression on his face. He looks like he’s been pulled from the midst of the most intense discussion of his life—his hair disheveled, a hint of confusion flickering across his features as he registers who’s on the other side of the door.

“What’s so important thatcha gotta bang down our door at one in the mornin’?” he asks, his tone more curious than irritated.

Despite the cold creeping in around your slippers, you feel a flush spread across your cheeks—and it’s unfortunately not from the chill. It’s hard not to notice his well-defined muscles and the way his boxers sit so nicely on his hips; all the INA boys are sculpted like art and it’s part of why they’re such a popular fraternity on campus. Still, regardless of how hot he may be, your exhaustion and frustration are quick to overshadow any hint of attraction.

“So you do know it’s one AM! In case you two didn’t know, most normal people are trying to sleep at this hour,” you snap, trying not to look at how the dim hallway light casts shadows across his abs. It’s honestly a shame that this is the bane of your existence and his grayscale clone you’re talking about. “Including me, and I can’t do that with the Miyas recreating a live studio audience next door.”

Osamu’s expression softens a bit, actually looking slightly apologetic, and he leans against the door frame, crossing his arms. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that. Guess we got carried away.”

Behind him, you catch a glimpse of Atsumu, just as minimally clad, who has now paused in the midst of grabbing a snack from their cluttered table. He truly is cursed to be a demon trapped inside a beautiful body.

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between you and his brother, licking his lips before he teases, “Ya know, princess, you could always join us. M’bed’s got room for two.”

Osamu glances back at his twin, rolling his eyes slightly before returning his attention to you. “Bro, seriously?” He sighs, but you can see the hint of a smirk playing on his lips as well.

“No thanks,” you mutter, crossing your arms and standing your ground, determined not to let Atsumu’s pointed commentary distract you from your mission. “Don’t need your help cuddling me to sleep. Just shut up, please.”

Atsumu strides over to the door to stand next to his brother, grinning as he eyes you up and down. “C’mon, babe. We’re just havin’ a bit of fun. What’s a few more minutes, ey? Besides, you look cute in yer bunny slippers.”

“I hate you. And I told you to stop calling me stupid nicknames,” you huff. In your initial moment of rage, you forgot you’re standing there in just your fluffy slippers and polka-dot pajama set. “Just be quiet so I can sleep.”

Osamu chuckles, clearly amused, but still he takes a step back and drags Atsumu with him. “Alright, alright, we’ll keep it down, promise. Ain’t our intention to keep a pretty girl like you up all night—unless, of course, that’s what you’re aimin’ for.”

The joke sends a wave of heat across your face, but you manage a quick, “Shut up,” before turning on your heel and heading back to your room. As you walk away, you hear the soft thud of the door closing and the remnants of their now blessedly muffled voices.

Back in your own room, you climb back into bed, pull the covers up to your chin, and stare at the ceiling, willing your heartbeat to calm down. “Stupid Miyas,” you mutter to yourself, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow.

It’s going to be a long night.

***

The next morning, Mao is the first to point out your dark circles. 

It had been a struggle to wake up this morning, given how you had hardly slept; when your phone, blasting a cheery Ohayo, Ohayo! alarm, obnoxiously alerted you to start the day, you almost threw it across the room. You are bleary-eyed and extremely grumpy, so when she gasps at your appearance over breakfast, you are quick to react.

“I look exhausted because I am, Mao,” you snark back, rubbing at your temples in an attempt to ward off the impending headache. It doesn’t work. “Thanks to the Miya twins and their late-night comedy show, I barely got any sleep.”

You feel bad for snapping at your best friend—after all, she had only been concerned. But thankfully, she doesn’t seem to take any offense to your tone; she just sympathetically nods and slides a steaming cup of coffee your way. “Well, hopefully, today will be less noisy. Maybe the activities will tire them out.” 

You doubt it, but you’ll take whatever peace you can get.

 ***

The morning actually passes relatively uneventfully because Aran and Chizuru, as the secretaries, have put together a tight itinerary that’s meant to keep you all moving. From a group hike to tubing to a stop at the holiday market to ending the night with board games, they have everything fleshed out.

But somehow, Atsumu still manages to find every opportunity to get under your skin. From bumping into you “accidentally” during the hike to stealing your pink tube right at the top of the slide to buying the stall’s last Mt. Iwate snow globe you had been eyeing, by the end of the day, you are practically stomping into the cabin. You are seething for an opportunity to execute revenge.

Said opportunity makes itself present when the group gathers around the large dining table for Pictionary after dinner. Chizuru draws names from a hat to decide teams, and you end up paired with Osamu—you can’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at your partner. Osamu is focused and competitive, just like you, and despite his contribution to the teasing and noise last night, you know he’s just as enthusiastic about beating his brother as you are.

The game starts off lightheartedly, with everyone laughing and shouting guesses as each pair takes turns drawing. When it’s Osamu’s turn, he pulls a card and starts sketching quickly; he draws a round shape with spiky hair and you squint, confused.

“Um… a pineapple… a sun?” you guess tentatively, but Osamu shakes his head and continues, his hand moving frantically to add more details—a few lines here, a few there. “A duck?”

Osamu keeps drawing and you keep futilely guessing, until finally, he adds two distinctive eyebrows and a stupid grin that you’d recognize anywhere. The lightbulb finally clicks on in your mind; really, you can’t believe it took you this long.

You blurt out, “An asshole!” 

The room falls silent for a beat before everyone (excluding Atsumu, of course) erupts into boisterous laughter. Even Kita is smiling—and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him express real emotion. Osamu’s face positively lights up, and he gives you an enthusiastic high five.

Atsumu, though momentarily stunned, quickly retorts, “Oi! I’m right here, ya know!”

Chizuru, being game coordinator, tries to maintain some semblance of order. She coughs into her hand, trying not to laugh, as she says, “Technically, she’s not wrong based on the drawing, but let’s stick to the actual prompts, please.”

Osamu all but wipes a tear from his eye. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up the little card that says in all caps, [ YELLOW ].

“The fuck? How’s me even relate to that?” Atsumu scoffs. 

Osamu shrugs mock-innocently, but the shit-eating grin on his face gives him away. “I dunno, jus’ came to mind. Maybe it’s yer hair.”

Yui giggles beside Atsumu, who is glaring daggers at his twin. “Well, at least you’re… memorable,” she says, patting her partner on the shoulder.

“Yeah, memorable for being an ass,” you retort, trying to suppress your own laughter.

The game moves on, even as the laughter continues; despite Atsumu’s ongoing and constant attempts to throw you off, you and Osamu manage to rack up a respectable number of points. And you do so again and again, even when Atsumu declares a team rematch in the form of Codenames and Uno; the camaraderie with Osamu comes shockingly naturally and by the time you have finished playing rematches with all the available games in the rec room, you are practically in sync. 

Osamu is easy to work with. You two work together to get on Atsumu’s nerves and you can tell the blonde is boiling. He competes with Osamu at an intensity you haven’t even seen before from him—you chalk it up to sibling rivalry, though you wouldn’t know for sure.

Then, when your team is declared as the official overall second place (after Kita and Aran—who would’ve guessed), Osamu scoops you up into a brief hug; your feet come six inches off the ground and you gasp at the unexpected embrace. A blush spreads across your cheeks when he settles you down because Yui and Chizuru are squealing so loud you think the rest of the sorority can probably hear it from Tokyo, 543.5 kilometers away. You don’t even have it in you to make eye contact with the bemused younger Miya twin, so you keep your eyes steadfast on the ground. His arm is residually slung around your shoulders; he leans much of his weight against you when he does.

You’re okay with it though. Osamu’s arms are just as toned and yummy as they look.

four.

Over the next week, you find yourself getting to know the gray-haired Miya more and more. He makes breakfast for everyone in the mornings without fail, and you’re an early bird, so more often than not, you two end up alone in the kitchen before the light has fully woken up the cabin.

Osamu is thoughtful, considerate—he’s so naturally comforting and sincere, down to his smallest movements. He listens more than he talks. He makes people feel heard. He takes care of the people around him. He doesn’t flirt with you or provoke you or leave you breathless. He is nice. 

You think that you like him. 

One morning, Osamu is telling you a story about learning to cook because at twelve years old Atsumu almost burnt down the kitchen while trying to make eggs, when Atsumu (further proof he really is a demon because he was summoned on cue, Beetlejuice-style) groggily stumbles into the room in the humble pursuit of coffee.

He blinks, registering what he’s seeing, his eyes flickering between you and his twin confusedly. “Why’re ya here?” he asks, sounding almost accusatory. “Why’re you canoodlin’ at seven in the mornin’?”

You snort. “We are not canoodling,” you mock, resting your head in your palm, leaning on the kitchen island. “Osamu’s just telling me about the time you almost burned down your house.”

Atsumu’s head snaps at an insane speed to look at his brother, a boyish look of embarrassment and betrayal all over his face. “‘Samu, what’re ya spillin’ that for?” he whines. This action makes you smile even more: the mental picture of little Atsumu setting off smoke alarms while Osamu calmly puts out the flames behind him only becomes more vivid when you imagine Atsumu pouting and in tears. It mitigates his irritating personality, even if just by a bit. 

Osamu, noticing his twin’s flustered state, gives a nonchalant shrug. “Just sharin’ some childhood memories,” he replies smoothly, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you don’t catch.

Atsumu narrows his eyes at his brother but doesn’t say anything, instead turning his attention to the coffee pot. As Osamu adds more and more silly details and your conversation continues, Atsumu’s demeanor… shifts. The embarrassment fades, replaced by a subtle, tightening jawline, his eyes darting between you and his brother; he looks irritated. Is he really that mad at having his childhood mishaps dragged into the light? 

The thought of him as a kid is actually kinda cute, though you suspect that if you told him this, Atsumu’s ego would inflate so large he’d float into outer space.

“Really, ‘Tsumu, it was like you were tryna to summon a fire spirit with that stove,” Osamu teases, slicing fresh strawberries with a chef’s finesse. He shoots you a playful wink. “Had’ta save our house from becoming a pile of ash. Ma’ almost killed us both!”

Atsumu huffs, pouring himself a cup of coffee, the steam swirling between you. “Cut it out, ‘Samu. Don’t need ya makin’ her think I was a total menace as a kid,” he shoots back, his tone playful yet strained.

You laugh at their banter. “Well, you’re still one now, so I don’t know,” you smirk, leaning towards Atsumu. “Maybe Osamu’s just the better brother.”

Atsumu shoots a playful glare at his brother, but when his gaze falls back on you, it lingers just a bit longer than necessary. “Just in the kitchen,” he mutters, but there’s a noticeable edge to his voice. He grabs an extra mug from the cabinet, setting both it and a little container of cream cups and sugar packets down in front of you before pouring you a fresh cup. “The usual?”

“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly; it doesn’t quite click that Atsumu knows your coffee order by heart. “It’s nice you guys always had each other growing up, huh? I mean, you’re lucky you’ve got Osamu around to keep you out of trouble,” you tease. 

As Atsumu locates some cinnamon sticks and mixes your coffee, his expression hardens. “Yea, lucky me,” he says, his tone dry. He slides the cup toward you with a careful nudge. “‘Samu’s the saint and the hero, always has been.”

Osamu chuckles from his spot by the counter. “Oi, you ain’t gotta sell yerself short, ‘Tsumu. You got your moments... they’re just hidden very, very deep,” His voice is light, but you sense an underlying seriousness that suggests he’s proud of his twin more than he lets on.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee, eyes trained on watching you stir yours. “Can’t ya ‘ave told some of those magical stories to her then? Had to keep it on ma failures?” 

You eye him over the mug, playful. “I mean… you tell me plenty about your moments. I like hearing about your weaknesses.”

A sly smirk creeps onto Osamu’s face. “Oh, don’t cha worry your pretty head. I’ve got lotsa stories ‘bout ‘Tsumu,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder, the touch light but enough to make you aware of his presence.

Glancing up at Osamu in your surprise, you happen to miss the way Atsumu’s jaw clenches, his grip on his coffee cup tightening until his knuckles turn white. You happen to miss the way his frown settles deeper on his face. Above all, you happen to miss the way his glare at Osamu darkens with annoyance, with something that burns with more than just sibling rivalry, and the way Osamu grins right back. 

five.

“I think I like Osamu.”

Mao squints at you from her spot at the foot of your bed, peering up momentarily from her debate on which pair of pants to wear. “Girl what? Wrong Miya.”

“I knew you were gonna say that!” you groan into your hands. You had called your best friend over for the primary purpose of helping you pick out your outfit for the activities today (a walk through Morioka and hitting up a food market for dinner), but honestly, you’re starting to regret it. It really would’ve been easier to have just spun a wheel or something, because Mao has not been helpful in anything besides causing you more agony. “You watch too many k-dramas. I hate Atsumu!”

“Bitch, please,” Mao scoffs. Like a true friend, she does not tolerate any of your bullshit and says things as they are, blunt and completely honest. And like a truer fake friend, she’s been #TeamAtsumu since day one because she’s convinced that the Universe constantly bringing you together is the real life equivalent of Our Beloved Summer (but in college). “Hate is such a strong word. You don’t hate him. What you guys have is sexual tension.”

You want to let out a visceral scream. “That is not true. He’s just…”

“‘Stupidly pretty and gets on your nerves’, yeah yeah, I know,” Mao finishes your sentence with a shit-eating grin. “Have you ever considered just riding his dick to get the feelings out?”

Glaring at her does nothing besides make her smile grow even bigger. 

“I’m not going to ride his dick because even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to find it. Y’know he keeps saying he packs eight? As if he would have both an eight-pack and eight inches. The universe wouldn’t do that. Atsumu’s gotta be nerfed somehow, right?” you ramble, half annoyed and half trying to stop imagining him naked. 

“I can see the rated X thoughts in your head, lovebug.”

“Whatever. How did we even get to this? The point is that Osamu’s nice to me. Super respectful. Why wouldn’t I like him?” 

Mao shrugs. “Yeah, he’s a sweetie. But like… I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for you.”

“You suck. Who do you think you are?” you glower.

“I’m your fucking twin flame, give me my respect,” she snorts, not getting a reply because you both know she’s right. She then holds up two pairs of jeans—one dark-wash, one light-wash, but otherwise virtually identical—and stares them down like her life depends on it. “But anyway. Just don’t think you’re meant for a nice guy, y’know? In fact, I think Atsumu makes you better.”

You gape at her, in utter disbelief she could even say those words out loud. “Be so fuckin’ serious. Better? He, like, thrives off my rage.”

“Right, and you thrive off competition,” she replies boredly, tossing the light-wash pair over her shoulder and standing to wiggle the other on. “I’m telling you, Atsumu gets under your skin in a way no one else can–”

“You’re getting real close,” you interrupt, earning yourself a pointed look.

“Shut up. As I was saying, Atsumu gets under your skin, challenges you, and that lights a fire under your ass. Makes you wanna prove him wrong, prove yourself right. And that’s what makes you better. Makes you both better.”

“It’s like you want me to be miserable.”

She snorts. “Of course not. I’m just saying, for someone so hellbent on hating Atsumu, you sure spend a lot of time talking about him. I mean, really, do you even hear yourself?” She spins around, both to show you the fit and to mock you with little hand gestures. “‘I hate Atsumu, Atsumu this, Atsumu that, Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu.’ It’s like you have a little shrine dedicated to him in your mind.”

“You’re delusional,” you mutter, even though you know her words have at least some truth in them. “I don’t care about him.”

What a lie. It’s a lie and both of you know it, because Mao squints at you, hands on her hips. “Look, all I’m saying is, you can try to sell me on Osamu all you want—he’s nice, he’s sweet, he respects you, blah blah blah. But are you sure it’s him you actually like?”

You freeze, her question slicing through your defenses like a knife. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turns to face you, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised like she’s ready to dismantle you piece by piece. “I mean, are you into Osamu? Or do you just like the idea of him because it’s easier than dealing with whatever weird, messy thing you’ve got going on with his brother?”

You blink at her, completely thrown off balance. “That’s—that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she fires back, her tone casual but sharp. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re running from something.”

“I—” You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue. You’re not sure what to say because, annoyingly, she’s not entirely wrong. She never really is.

You’re truly blessed in this world because you and Mao were random suitemates who coincidentally rushed the same sorority freshman year and have been inseparable ever since. She’s the IVP to your EVP, the peanut butter to your jelly, the Starfire to your Raven, and your real mothafuckin’ OG because she’s been there for you through literally everything. Right now, however, it means she has the ability to brutally call you out like she can read your mind with X-Ray vision, straight down to your thinly veiled thoughts about Atsumu’s abs.

Mao gives you a knowing look, pulling her phone from her pocket to check the time, a helpful reminder that you in fact do have things to do today besides sit around and mope.

She dusts off her outfit one last time, before heading towards the door. “Look, think about it. You clearly don’t not care about him. And c’mon, lovebug. All these ‘random’ run-ins since then? Not so random when you think about it. The Chem partners, maybe. But you two at formal? Matching during blind dating two years in a row? The universe isn’t subtle, babe.”

You are hating this call out. It’s such an accurate read that you feel annoyed that she’s able to just put it in the world like this when you have spent the last two years trying to choke it down. The truth in Mao’s words sting; you can’t even argue because every random encounter with Atsumu feels less like coincidence and more like the cosmos relishing in your anguish.

“Why did it have to be him?” you mutter, more to yourself than to Mao. “Why’d the universe pick him of all people?”

Mao snorts. “Because he’s an idiot, just like you. You’re probably the only two people in the world who could pull off two and a half years of weird, messed up pining.”

You roll your eyes, but finally, you allow yourself a small smile; Mao really is the only one who can simultaneously call you out for everything you’ve been trying to ignore but also make you feel seen in ways that no one else can. It’s the brutal honesty, the tough love that she delivers without sugarcoating it, that makes you value her words even when they sting.

“Fine, maybe you have a point,” you admit begrudgingly, much to her thrill—which you promptly kill by waggling your finger in her face. “I do care about him. But Osamu’s really sweet to me and… I dunno. I promise I’ll think about it.”

“And that’s all I’m asking for, babygirl. If you do actually like Osamu, I’ll support you—I mean, he’s hot and makes fire pancakes,” Mao shrugs nonchalantly. “But when you end up with Atsumu, I’m gonna tell you I told you so.”

You scowl at her. “I said I’d think about it. That does not mean I’m going to suddenly start confessing my undying love for Atsumu.”

“I don’t expect that!” Mao says, faux innocence dripping from her voice. “Because I already know you will next time you drunk make-out with him at a kickback.”

She’s instantly hit in the head with a pillow (the first thing throwable you could reach), cackling boisterously like she’s told the funniest joke in the world. That’s it. It’s official. As of this moment, you are officially confirming it: it’s time to find a new best friend. 

six.

It’s the perfect night to unwind.

It’s been a long enough day of playing tourist. The rest of the fraternity and sorority boards finished several cases of beer and a handle of Tito’s over dinner, so they’ve long retreated into their rooms; you’re the sole person still lingering awake. All things considered, you’ve been high-strung all week (worsened now—thanks Mao!), so even if you were to try, you probably couldn’t sleep anyway. So you opt for the best relaxation method you’ve got at the moment: breaking in the good ‘ol hot tub.

It’s a decent size and takes up almost all of the back veranda, sans a small patio space—under the open sky, the air is chilly and you can see the snow-covered landscape extending for what feels like miles. The setting is so calm, so beautiful and something right now feels so immaculately undisturbed, it really is the perfect night. You have donned your favorite bikini, turned on the jets, and set the water to the hottest setting; your eyes are fluttering shut in an attempt to find some peace. The sound of the water bubbles and cracks around you, and you can feel your muscles start to ease.

This is exactly what you wanted from your winter break: a chance to loosen up.

But good things aren’t meant to last, and especially not when the very premise of this vacation is to make sure you can never catch a break, because the tranquility is quickly disrupted by the sounds of footsteps crunching across the wood-paneled porch. You pry open your eyes to find Atsumu approaching the hot tub, a huge smirk spread across his face. He’s wearing dark blue board shorts and carries a towel slung casually over his shoulder; without waiting for an invitation, he dips a toe into the water, then with a satisfied nod, slips in across from you.

The universe hates you, clearly. 

“Fancy seein’ ya here, princess,” he teases, the warm water swirling around as he settles in.

You roll your eyes, trying to avoid the flutter in your chest that starts up again seeing him. “Can’t you find someone else to bother?”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. Just thought it’d be nice to join ya. The night’s too pretty to spend alone,” he says, flashing a stunning grin that you suspect has melted many hearts before yours. A pompous, arrogant fuckboy to his core.

“Well, you’ve seen the night, you can leave now.”

Atsumu chuckles, unfazed. “Nah, I think I’ma stay. Matter-a-fact, why don’t I get reeeaaall close…” he trails off, inching closer to your side.

You splash him with your hand in prompt retaliation. He laughs, dodging the splash as if he’d anticipated it all along—probably because Atsumu thrives on your attention and revels in your irritation. 

“You’re so annoying.”

“One of my most charmin’ qualities, ey?” he smirks.

“No.” 

“Well you’re still here, so… at least a part of ya definitely likes it,” he says, his eyebrows doing an absurd dance that pulls an involuntary smile from you. “See? Yer even smilin’! I got the great and stoic princess to smile! I can die happy now.”

As much as Atsumu infuriates you, your lips truly do betray you: you suppose he can be funny… sometimes. “Then please, do us all a favor and die.”

“Awh, but then who’ll keep ya company?” he simpers, sickeningly sweet. 

“I’ll call Osamu down here to join me.”

Atsumu’s face falls. “Ya kiddin’? ‘Samu’ll bore ya half to death. He ain’t hold a candle to my glitterin’ personality.”

You snort. “We have plenty of conversations in the mornings when you’re not even awake.”

“Right, right. Ya mean your conversations ‘bout me?” Atsumu says challengingly. 

The argument you were about to make fades away as it hits you—he’s kind of right. Most of your chats with Osamu do end up circling back to him. This realization irks you because it suggests one of two things: your growing interest in Osamu is just a misplaced fixation on his brother, or you do think about Atsumu far more than you’d care to admit.

Either and both implications are terrible.

You scowl, “Shut up. I don’t need you to spice things up.”

His eyes light up, and you prepare yourself because he’s clearly just come up with a terrible idea. “Oi, wanna really make things interesting?”

“What?”

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Atsumu suggests, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Are you kidding? No.” 

“C’mon,” he pouts exaggeratedly, his lower lip comically jut out. “We’ll have fun. Unless you’re scared or somethin’.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to play your dumbass game.” 

“Scared, you’re definitely scared,” he taunts, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head, clearly settling in for the long haul. “Afraid I’ll make ya fall for me? Afraid ya can’t handle it?”

You glare at him. He’s obviously provoking you, but God, is it frustratingly difficult not to rise to the bait when he’s giving you that smug, self-serving look. “Ugh, fine. Whatever. I don’t care.”

Atsumu’s grin widens; he looks so infuriatingly triumphant. “Great. So truth or dare, princess?”

Considering your choices, you pause for a moment before sighing. “Truth.”

You expect something insincere or flirty, maybe a dumb innuendo he’s definitely practiced before on countless other girls. You’re prepared to be pissed off by whatever he’s got to say, because Atsumu is a man of many talents, the best of which is making you mad.

Then he just asks, “What’s yer secret talent?”

“A secret talent?” you echo; you’re caught off-guard by the lack of underlying implications. 

“Yea, somethin’ you can do that ya haven’t told anyone ‘bout,” Atsumu clarifies, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

You contemplate momentarily, before you let out a slow, deep sigh. At the end of the day, it’s an innocent enough question; you suppose that since you know so many embarrassing stories about Atsumu (again, courtesy of Osamu), it’s only fair you tell him something embarrassing about you.

“If you make fun of me, I will actually kill you,” you mutter, though the threat carries no real weight when your face is as flushed as it is. “But um… I know a bunch of magic tricks. Like cards and stuff.”

“Honest?” Atsumu’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets—it seems a bit overdramatic, but he prods further, as if genuinely fascinated by this tidbit of information you’ve just shared with him. “Why’d ya learn? Will ya show me?”

Your cheeks burn hotter. “I um… I wanted to be a magician when I was little. I even tried to convince my parents to get me a bunny, but they said it’d be cruel to just keep it in my hat,” you admit, your voice small under the intense scrutiny of his gaze. He bursts into laughter at this revelation, and you find yourself oddly proud of it. “And I dunno. Maybe? If you get me a deck of cards, I guess I could—but no one else can know, okay? You gotta keep it a secret just for us.”

Atsumu’s face widens until he positively beams. “Deal! I’ll get ya a deck of cards,” he declares, already plotting where to find one. “Neva woulda expected that from you, princess. That’s amazin’! Can’t wait to see what ya got.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t even fake annoyance when Atsumu’s excitement is so damn contagious. By no means had you expected him to react like that, but it does make the game more bearable and you more at ease. “Fine, but remember, not a word to anyone.”

“Cross ma heart,” he replies, drawing an exaggerated ‘X’ over his chest with his finger. He leans back, his face alight with glee at his newfound secret. “Alright, alright, yer turn. Ask me.”

“Well, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Pouting, you think carefully about your question before shrugging half-heartedly. “I don’t really know what to ask you. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Pussy,” Atsumu says wistfully, his eyes dreamy. 

You shoot him a look. “You must like getting splashed.”

“Only if it’s by your pretty p–” His sentence cuts off because you in fact have begun to thrash around in the water, kicking wild waves in his direction. Atsumu raises his arms in mock surrender, laughing even as he wipes the water from his face. “Alright, alright, just messin’ with ya, swear! For real though. If I hadta pick just one thing, it’d just be ‘Samu’s onigiri. He’s got magic in ‘is hands, honest.”

Catching your breath, you can’t help but chuckle, your arms crossed as you float in the shallows of the tub. “That’s surprisingly wholesome of you, admitting Osamu’s the better cook. You're proud deep down, huh?”

He shrugs, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “Yea, sadly gotta give ‘Samu that one. But don’t go spreadin’ that ‘round, don’t want him gettin’ a big head.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you promise, mocking his same theatrical ‘X’, feeling the tension ease slightly between you two. Squaring your shoulders, you nod. “Alright, your turn. Dare.”

The word barely leaves your mouth before Atsumu’s expression brightens. He leans closer, his voice dropping to say conspiratorially, “Call me a nickname ��til the game ends.”

You snort. “I already do, dumbass. I’m princess, you’re dumbass. That’s just the way it goes.”

“No!” Atsumu whines, scooting closer to your side of the tub. “Call me something cute. Like honey or pumpkin or–”

“I’ll call you babe and that’s the most you’ll get,” you interrupt warningly, and obediently, he stops talking, nodding away like an oversized bobble head with a stupidly cute smile on his face—honestly, his simplemindedness is impressive.

“So, babe–” you pause to wince at the nickname, unfamiliar and strange but not necessarily bad on your tongue. “–truth or dare?”

He licks his lips before he answers, which involuntarily draws your gaze to them; you shift your stare up to his warm brown eyes instead.

Under the sky, Atsumu’s eyes seem to collect the very stars above. And when he’s looking at you like that, you have a flash in your chest, and you think that either A) you’re having a heart attack, or the much worse option, B) you definitely don’t not care about him.

seven.

You and Atsumu have managed to play this stupid game for hours.

And you know this for two reasons: first because you two have already made it two-and-a-half times around the cycle of 1) getting out of the tub with pruney toes, 2) settling on the patio couches, and 3) complaining of cold and getting back in the tub.

Second: you’ve exhausted all small-talk options and resigned into the deep shit—deep shit being increasingly stupid stories and dumb dares. You’ve sprinted to the end of the yard and admitted your deep fear of squirrels, Atsumu has belted Perfect by One Direction and confessed that he once replaced Osamu’s protein powder with flour, and neither of you can remember the last time you’ve laughed so hard. It’s strange: by the time you’re asking Atsumu his next truth, your cheeks hurt from smiling and conversation comes more than easily.

“Okay, okay, what’s the dumbest thing that you’ve ever done to impress someone?” you ask, nudging his side a little with your foot.

You’re nestled into the opposite ends of the same couch, the firepit fully ablaze beside you (Atsumu struggled for twenty minutes to get it alight). The couch isn’t quite long enough for you both to extend fully even while sitting up, so your legs have ended up slotted between his and your heel is now resting comfortably on his thigh; he’s fiddling mindlessly with your anklet as he grumbles, “As if ‘Samu ain’t already told ya all my stories.” 

But he pauses momentarily to think anyway. When he’s apparently decided on what to tell you, he averts his gaze from yours with sheepish eyes. “One year, for my ma’s birthday, I wanted ta get this real pretty flower from the top of a tree cause ‘Samu made her a fancy schmancy breakfast. Ended up fallin’ and breakin’ my arm, didn’t even get the flower either. Ma told me it was okay, but I bawled the whole way home from the ER cause I wanted her to have a nice gift.”

“You’re joking! Over a flower?” you gasp out, even as Atsumu’s face scrunches up, halfway between embarrassment and amusement—your stomach hurts with every breath you take, but you can’t stop your laughter. 

“Oi, it was a real nice flower!” he defends, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the bashful story. “‘Nd ‘Samu was actin’ all high-n-mighty with his eggs benedict or whatever. I had to do something.”

The image of a young Atsumu, just as determined and headstrong even back then, a boy who would climb a tree for his mother, who would risk everything to make her smile, who cried because he wanted to do something nice for her, warms you more than the hot tub ever could. 

“Well, babe, if it makes you feel better, I think the effort was sweet,” you pause, savoring the pink on his cheeks at both the pet name and your response. “Stupid, but really sweet.”

“Shaddup, it’s yer turn. Truth or dare?” he asks, still pouting.

Midway through your consideration on what to pick, you get distracted by the way the firelight crackles and casts flickering shadows across Atsumu’s face. His eyes are always beautiful, but right now, they glow like pools of honey and amber. His hair is fluffy and tousled and damp from the tub and he’s wearing just his swimsuit, sans the towel thrown hazardously around his shoulders. You swear to yourself to never tell him, but you want to commit this image of him to memory forever, pretty and human and yours alone.

Atsumu smirks, the rosy tint on his cheeks deepening as he catches you staring. “What’s the matter? See somethin’ ya like?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful mischief as he leans in a little closer, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Yer gonna drool starin’ like that.”

“Fuck off, I was not staring,” you lie blatantly, flushed at his calling you out. “I was just thinking about what to say.”

“Cause I stole your breath away?”

You glare at him. “About whether to say truth or dare, dumbass.”

“Don’t call me dumbass! Call me babe,” he whines. “‘nd ya still ain’t picked.”

“Fine, truth.”

“Then admit the truth that you can’t resist me.”

“Oh my god,” you huff, crossing your arms across your chest; truly, he ruins his natural beauty by opening his mouth. “Ask me a question I can answer, please.”

Atsumu chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “Fine, fine. I’ll letcha keep your pride,” he grins, his eyes twinkling in the firelight as he contemplates the perfect question to unravel you a bit more. “Fine. Why d’ya hate me so much anyway?”

You blink, caught completely off guard by Atsumu’s question. Of all the things he could have asked, this wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Why do I hate you so much?” you echo, stalling for time, though your voice wavers ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in slightly, the firelight casting shadows across his face. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression—something serious, something that makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight. “C’mon, princess, spill it. You’ve called me an idiot, a dumbass, and everythin’ in between. Gotta be somethin’ behind it, right?”

He’s teasing, but his voice is softer now, his usual bravado dimmed. And suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a game anymore.

Your first instinct is to brush him off, to joke, to deflect—because isn’t that what the two of you always do? But this time, for reasons you don’t entirely understand, you hesitate.

“I…” You glance down at your hands, fiddling with the hem of your towel, anything to avoid the weight of his gaze. “I mean… hate is a strong word.”

He leans back slightly, but the intensity in his eyes doesn’t waver. “Yeah? Then what’s all the name-callin’ and eye-rollin’ about?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Because you’re annoying! You’re cocky, you’re loud, and you always find a way to get under my skin.” You pause, lowering your hands to glance at him, and there’s an odd mix of frustration and amusement in your tone as you continue. “But... somehow, you make everything fun. Even when I don’t want to have fun.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And I dunno…” You swallow, the words sticking in your throat. “It’s just that you’re... you’re so…” You trail off, waving your hands in a vague gesture, struggling to articulate what you mean without outright admitting that he’s charming, or handsome, or kind in ways you’re only just starting to notice.

Atsumu, of course, seizes the opportunity. “So irresistible?” he offers with a grin, though his voice is quiet, almost cautious.

You shoot him a glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. “So infuriating,” you snap, but the small, wobbly smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The fire crackles softly beside you, filling the silence, and you can’t quite bring yourself to look away from him. His usual cocky grin has softened into something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip in a way you’d rather not think about. 

Atsumu tilts his head, watching you with an expression that feels far too tender for your liking, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Y’know, princess… I think you might like me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and dangerous, and you force out a scoff, shaking your head as you pull your legs away from his and sit up straighter, putting some much-needed distance between you. “You’re delusional, babe,” you mutter, ignoring the way your heart stumbles over itself.

But as you turn your gaze to the fire and refuse to meet his eyes, you already know you’re lying—to him, and to yourself.

eight.

A year ago, on the night of your sophomore formal, your date ghosted you last-minute with only a “can’t make it” text to explain.

You freaked out, panic-scrolled through your contacts list for who still didn’t have a date, and, after a few additional minutes of hyperventilating and really talking yourself into it, spam-called Atsumu. You hadn’t expected him to actually say yes.

He showed up at your door just in time, dressed in his nicest suit and his blonde hair combed neatly, armed with your favorite flowers just-because. And you’d told him then that he didn’t have to do this for you, that this didn’t make you two friends, that this didn’t mean anything at all—neither the dance to him nor him to you. 

But he had just smiled, that crooked, heartbreaking smile of his, and said, “Sure, sure, princess. Ain’t like I had anythin’ better to do, right?” And when he took your hand to lead you out, his touch was gentle, careful, as if he was afraid you might break if he held on too tight. At the end of the night, you had kissed him on the cheek to say thank you, and when you pulled away, he had that softness in his eyes, a mix of bravery and hope and something else you couldn’t quite place. It’s a look that’s haunted you since last winter, something that lingers in every new guy you kiss in nasty frat houses or meet on Hinge, because no one else quite looks at you like that.

And that’s terrifying. Because last night, he looked at you the exact same way, fiddling with your anklet and admitting his most vulnerable secrets, undoing your own understanding of him and his character and upending all the reasons you hate him. 

***

The next day, you are actively avoiding thinking about Atsumu, and as the afternoon fades into a soft, early evening, you find yourself in the kitchen helping Osamu prepare for dinner. Everyone’s already returned from the day trip to Morioka and are now spread throughout the cabin, recovering before eating and the planned game night after. 

The quietude of the tasks are meditative, the rhythmic peeling of potatoes matching the gentle bubbling of the curry on the stove. Osamu moves around with an effortless grace, his movements methodical and precise and deliberate; he operates so seamlessly that his presence is both comforting and slightly unnerving. Despite only being here for a little over a week, it’s like he already knows the kitchen by heart, so much so that you find yourself wondering if perhaps he is too perfect, too polished.

The room is filled with the smells of cooking and the occasional clink of utensils against bowls, a domestic symphony that should be comforting.

But it’s just… not.

“Ya need any help with those?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts and you vehemently shake your head.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got this,” you reply, though your hands continue their steady work and he ends up reaching over and taking one from the pile anyway. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, noting the way his brows furrow slightly as he focuses on his task.

The conversation flows easily enough. It meanders on safe topics, the kind that fill the air but leave little impact; you talk about college, the upcoming events for the week, and the movies Chizuru picked for the night. It’s not particularly energetic or enthusiastic, especially now that you’re acutely avoiding mentioning Atsumu (all while cursing the blonde for pointing out last night the uncomfortable fact that, yes, in fact your conversations with Osamu are always easier when Atsumu’s the topic), but it is continuous and ongoing and maybe that will do. 

“Ever thought about opening your own restaurant?” you ask, clinging to a thread of conversation that might spark more interest.

Osamu’s reaction is a simple mild chuckle, a sound that lacks any real depth.

“‘Tsumu thinks I should too,” he responds without looking up from his knifework. “Maybe one day, when things settle down a bit.”

You nod, but the response doesn’t satisfy you. It’s sensible, reasonable—just like everything about Osamu. But where’s the challenge, the playful banter that Atsumu always brought into even the simplest interactions? The thought of Atsumu’s teasing, his infectious laughter, and the way he could turn even a mundane moment into a playful challenge makes you ache with a sudden intensity. 

You miss him.

The realization comes unbidden, a silent whisper amid the clatter of the kitchen. It’s a missing piece that makes Osamu’s perfect attentiveness seem somehow incomplete. You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the evening air seeping through the slightly ajar kitchen window.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You help with cooking the rice, taste test with laughter and light conversation, but beneath it all is a current of dissonance. It’s not long before you’re wiping your hands on your apron and excusing yourself to get changed before dinner, and quietly slip upstairs.  

They say ignorance is bliss, and last night is proof. The conversation you just had with Osamu is nothing out of the ordinary, not at all different from the mornings you’ve spent together over the last week. And even now, it’s not that you don’t like Osamu, because you do. He’s good, he’s kind. He’s the kind of guy your parents would be proud of you for being with, a sort of stable and calm and reliable that’s everything you ever wanted. That’s everything you thought you ever wanted.

Somehow right now, it feels slightly hollow. 

As you step into your room, you let out a long sigh. Glancing at your phone, you briefly entertain the idea of texting Atsumu. You want to scream at him for ruining your developing feelings for his twin, blame him for destroying the tiny hint of stability you had for the week. But you don’t do that, mostly because that would be stupid to blame him for, but also because you think that if you see him right now, you might make a stupid decision you’ll end up regretting. 

nine.

Thanks to Chizuru’s insistence (it’s Christmas Eve, you have to!), you are convinced into joining tonight’s games of trivia and Jeopardy despite your misanthropy. Curse her and her supreme begging skills. You had been hoping to avoid the twins as much as humanly possible. 

Atsumu, sitting opposite you, kicks your foot. “Are ya good, princess?” he whispers when you look at him and raise your eyebrow. Aran, leading tonight, is saying something about Jeopardy rules, but it goes unheard, because the blonde in front of you continues, “Penny for your thoughts please.”

“You don’t have a penny,” you whisper back. “Pay me for my thoughts, dumbass.”

“What kinda guy d’ya take me for?” Atsumu mock-scoffs back. “A prostitute?”

Despite all the thoughts swirling in your mind, his stupid grin distracts you from them and you end up rolling your eyes, feeling the hint of a smile pull at your lips. “Maybe. You’re already kinda a fuckboy.”

“Don’tcha worry then, ‘cause you’re still ma favorite client,” he grins back. 

And you let yourself smile too.

***

The sorority ends up winning because Mao is a history major and there are no noticeable questions about agriculture or Sigmund Freud or business management or the average expenditure of calories (Kita, Suna, Osamu, and Atsumu respectively—the boys lowkey all study odd shit now that you think about it) that could allow the frat board to gain an upper hand. For the first time ever, you thank Mao for reciting her textbooks out loud to study, because now all of you are forced to have a comprehensive knowledge of war dates and Confucious.

The prize for winning, however, is a Certificate of Extraordinary Intelligence in Useless Facts, so Mao has officially launched herself into a very long declaration that history is not useless, so you don’t know if there was really a winner in the end.

It’s not in the itinerary for the night, but when Yui looks out the window and points out the clear sky, everyone is quick to agree to step outside for a “breath of fresh air.” Everyone meaning everyone but Kita, who is off to pack because he’s leaving at midnight to go stay with his family nearby. Though it would be Kita to have family in the little northern sector of Iwate: you could just see him living in a town of 50 one day, leading the calm, remote village life. You’ve never been close to the president of INA, but you guess he probably deserves to live a simple farm life because the foxes absolutely owe it to him for keeping the organization together.

The crisp night wind nips at your cheeks as you leave the cabin’s warmth, but after sitting around the table for so long you feel only invigorated by the chill; it really is the perfect night because the whole sky is just a tapestry of twinkling stars. The porch light casts a gentle glow, and the snow glistens under the moonlight, gorgeous and serene.

Without warning, Atsumu scoops up a handful of snow and lobs it at Osamu, who dodges just in time, causing the snowball to hit the cabin door with a soft thud. The playful challenge is met with enthusiasm, and within moments, everyone is gathering ammunition.

You’re bending down to scoop up your own snow when suddenly the shock of the cold against your warm skin causes you to let out a yelp. You spin around, eyes blazing, to find Atsumu standing there with a triumphant smirk on his face; his hand still holds some of the evidence, though most of it has been so rudely shoved down your back. 

“You jerk!” you yell, shrieking and jumping up and down, trying to shake the ice from the back of your sweater. Your tone is of annoyance, but it’s hard to stay truly mad when the whole scene is so ridiculously fun.

Atsumu is already backing away, a wild, teasing grin plastered across his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief under the moonlit night. “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me ya can’t handle a lil’ snow!” he taunts, his laughter echoing around the snowy clearing.

As if you’d let Atsumu just get away with that. So naturally, you scoop up as much snow as you can in your cold, red hands and take off sprinting after him, screaming, “Oh, you’re dead!”

The thrill of the pursuit drives away any lingering annoyance from last night; you barely even register the way your heart pounds with adrenaline and cheeks flush from the cold. The laughter of the others fades into the background as your focus narrows down to the gleeful figure darting just ahead of you.

Atsumu is fast, sure, but your determination is faster, and the freshly fallen snow slows him down just enough for you to gain ground. With a determined yell, you launch your armful of snow at his back, hitting him squarely between the shoulder blades; the impact makes him stumble forward with a playful groan. “Alright, alright, I give!” he laughs when he spins to face you, raising his hands in mock defeat.

Just as you think you’ve won, just as you start laughing triumphantly and let your guard down, he’s charging back at you. You try to sidestep, but the slippery ground betrays you, and you both end up tumbling into a soft snowdrift. The world whirls into a blur of white and laughter as you wrestle in the snow, trying to pin each other down. Atsumu manages to get the upper hand briefly, pinning your wrists gently above your head with a victorious grin. His breath comes in visible puffs in the cold air, his face inches from yours, eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer.

“You’re such a child!” you shout, breathless from both the cold and the exertion.

“You love it,” he retorts, a smug grin plastered across his face despite the snow sticking to his hair and clothes.

You roll and wrangle and as you do, Atsumu manages to push more snow down the back of your shirt, making you squeal and squirm. “Atsumu!” you shriek, half-annoyed, half-panting, mostly all laughing. Your hands are freezing, but you keep trying to shove snow into his face in retaliation until you finally manage to squish his face with a clump of snow. The rest of the group watches, cheering at your antics, thoroughly entertained by the display, but their voices go unregistered to both of you as you both fall back, exhausted and satisfied and covered in snow, looking up at the starry sky. 

As the laughter subsides and the rapid heartbeat begins to slow, you and Atsumu lie sprawled in the snow, the cold forgotten for a moment. The serene silence that falls over both of you is a rare kind of peace, something that feels close to perfect. You can see Atsumu’s chest rise and fall with each breath, his eyes reflecting the twinkling stars above, and there’s something unspoken in the way he looks at you—something that makes you feel softer, lighter, like you’re floating on air. 

You want to say something sarcastic. You want to throw more snow into his face and tell him he looks stupid. You want to be mean to him and you want him to flirt with you so you can tell him to fuck off. He’s the bane of your existence. He riles you up and makes you angrier than most other people ever could. It’s so much easier to argue with him. It’s so much easier to hate him. 

But you don’t. So you just lie there and take it in.

ten.

The moment gets stolen by a voice. 

“Oi, lovebirds, everyone’s headin’ in! You two plannin’ on makin’ snow angels all night, or do ya wanna join the rest of us by the fire?” Osamu calls out.

Atsumu glares in the voice’s direction, his brow creasing. The peaceful moment shatters like thin ice underfoot, and you can practically hear the crack because it’s visible in how his gaze shifts from the stars above to his brother and the tension in his grip that wasn’t there before. “Can’t ya see we’re havin’ a moment here?” he snaps back, the words almost biting through the frigid air.

Osamu, unbothered by the snap, just chuckles and strolls over, offering a hand to help you up. “Yeah, yeah, yer playin’ in the snow like a couple of kids. Let’s get inside, yer gonna catch cold.” His concern is sincere, his tone sweet. You accept the hand with a smile; when you stand fully up, Osamu wraps his arm around your shoulders and leans in close enough to mumble, “Yui told me that ya get sick easy. Got worried, hope ya ain’t too mad at me for snatchin’ ya away.”

His close presence is warmth cutting through your chill and you subconsciously lean into him. “Oh, thank you,” you say softly; he sounds so genuine. “You’re really considerate. It’s just At-”

You turn around to find Atsumu pushing himself up, brushing snow from his hair. He had been watching your quiet exchange with close eyes, and now that you really look at him again, his expression is briefly unfamiliar. It’s just for a brief second—a moment so quick it was gone in an instant—but you could have sworn it was a gaze tighter, darker, than you have ever seen from him before and it makes you shiver. It’s quick to be replaced by his usual grin when he notices your concerned expression, though, as if he’s trying to placate you. As if he doesn’t want you to know how he’s feeling. 

The snowball fight had been playful, a rare truce in your usual war of words with Atsumu, and now he seems reluctant to let that end. Still, his tone is light, or at least lighter than before, laced with a hint of forced cheerfulness, when he assures you, “S’okay, princess. Let’s get inside.”

But the sharpness in his eyes betrays his words. And as if to keep pushing him, to keep jamming his finger straight into the bruise, Osamu’s arm slips downwards to hover around your waist—it’s so delicate that you wouldn’t have noticed the shift in position if not for the way his hold ever so slightly tightens to pull you closer. 

Atsumu’s smile fades into something heavier and his hands clench into tight fists by his side and there’s a look that crosses his features, something filled with irritation; there’s a palpable tension between the two brothers that makes you nervous. Still, Osamu just smiles like he’s completely oblivious, cheerily saying, “Yeah, don’tcha worry, ‘Sumu. Just tryna keep our princess warm.”

Our princess. The words are loaded. Osamu isn’t just being kind; he’s provoking him. He’s pushing his brother, trying to see just how far Atsumu’ll let him go, trying to drive a reaction out of him. 

There’s an undeniable undercurrent of something more in the air. 

Atsumu, witnessing this, locks his jaw, his good-natured facade struggling to mask the surge of emotions that seem to whirl behind his eyes. And yet, he stops. He doesn’t say anything, even though it seemed as though he would, even though when you met his eyes there was that terrifying darkness from before. Atsumu just turns on his heel and starts marching back towards the cabin.

And for some reason you can’t quite comprehend, you feel your heart sink.

eleven.

It’s significantly quieter that night. 

Atsumu hadn’t shown up to dinner, nor did he join everyone to watch Elf in the living room. Chizuru and Aran had expressed concern, offering to go upstairs and check on him, but Osamu had assured them all that Atsumu was fine and just worn out from the day and that had seemed to placate them. You tried to trust his word too, but even as the film plays and Osamu drapes his arm onto the couch behind you and Yui nudges you and wiggles her brow at the closeness and you try to convince yourself that you’re fine, you can’t help the awful feeling of dread you have in the pit of your stomach. 

It doesn’t go away even when the movie ends and you retreat upstairs to shower and get to bed; it doesn’t go away even when you settle into the softness of your sheets and turn out the lights; it doesn’t go away even when the only illumination in the room comes from your phone as you stalk your Instagram homepage trying to distract your mind. You almost want to hear Atsumu’s overwhelmingly loud and obnoxious laughter from the next room; you want to know that he’s okay, and you don’t really even understand why. You’ve spent the last two years being an Atsumu Hater™ and here you are anyway, your heart racing. 

But just as you’re about to surrender to the warmth of your blankets, your ears pick up the muffled but unmistakable timbre of raised voices from the room next door.

The Miya twins.

You sit up in bed, heart pounding. You can’t make out the words through the wall, but the low rumble of Osamu’s voice and the sharper, heated tone of Atsumu’s are unmistakable. You hesitate for a moment, caught between pressing your ear against the wall to catch more of the conversation or trying to ignore it altogether. But then Atsumu’s voice cuts through clearly, loud and raw with frustration:

“Why’re ya doin’ this, Samu? Seriously, what the hell?”

You freeze.

There’s a pause. Osamu’s voice comes next, calmer but with a sharp edge that makes the air in your room feel heavy. “Doin’ what, exactly? Bein’ nice? Spendin’ time with her? ‘Cause last I checked, you’re the one who’s been actin’ like she don’t exist unless it’s to get under her skin.”

You hear the sound of something—maybe a chair or a bed frame—scraping against the floor. Atsumu’s voice comes back, even louder. “Don’t gimme that crap! You know what I’m talkin’ about! You’ve been all over her this whole week, like you’re tryin’ to... to—”

“To what, Tsumu?” Osamu cuts in, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch even from the other side of the wall. “To do what you won’t? You’ve had two years to say somethin’, to do anythin’, but all you’ve done is act like a damn idiot around her. And now you’re mad at me ‘cause I actually treat her like a person?”

Your chest tightens. You press your hands against your mouth to stifle the sharp inhale that escapes you. Are they... talking about you?

There’s a heavy silence. For a moment, you think maybe it’s over, but then Atsumu speaks again, quieter this time, almost hesitant. “It’s not like that...”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Osamu snaps. “If it’s not like that, then why are you so pissed off, huh? If you don’t care about her, why’s it eatin’ at ya every time I so much as look at her?”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice now, though it’s tinged with something more serious. “Admit it, Tsumu. You like her. Hell, you’ve probably liked her for years, but you’re too chicken to do anything about it. So don’t come at me like I’m the bad guy when all I’m doin’ is fillin’ the space you left wide open.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you’re surprised they can’t hear it through the wall.

“I—” Atsumu starts, but his voice falters. He sounds... small. Defeated. “I don’t—”

“Yeah? Then prove it,” Osamu interrupts. “If you really don’t care, I’ll back off. But if you do? If you actually want a chance with her? Then grow up and ask her out before it’s too late.”

Another beat of silence stretches between them, so tense and thick it feels like the walls of your room might crack under the weight of it. Then there’s the sound of footsteps—heavy, frustrated—and the slam of a door.

Your mind is racing. You sit there frozen for what feels like hours, trying to piece together what you’ve just heard, what it all means, and why your heart feels like it might break free of your chest.

You glance at the door to your room, wondering if Atsumu’s stormed off to his, or if—

A knock. A soft, hesitant knock at your door.

Your breath catches.

twelve.

The knock comes again, a little louder this time, but you don’t move. You press your face into the pillow, hold your breath, and will your heartbeat to calm down. He waits for a moment, long enough that you can almost picture him standing just outside your door, shifting on his feet and second-guessing himself.

Finally, there’s a sigh, barely audible through the door. The sound makes your chest ache.

But then the floor creaks softly as he steps away, and the silence that follows feels louder than anything he could have said.

You stay like that for a long time, staring into the darkness of your room as the words from the argument next door replay in your head on an endless loop. You don’t know how to feel, or even what to feel, but one thing is certain—you’re not going to get any sleep tonight.

***

The next morning, the sound of laughter and the warm scent of cinnamon pull you from your restless slumber. It’s Christmas morning.

You drag yourself out of bed, trying to shake the unease still settled in your chest, and join everyone downstairs. The living room is alive with energy—Chizuru and Yui are wearing matching pajamas and passing out mugs of hot cocoa, Aran is fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker to get a holiday playlist going, and Osamu is helping himself to the tray of cookies on the coffee table, ignoring Chizuru’s scolding about “ruining the aesthetic before everyone’s here.”

But even with all the warmth and chatter, the absence is glaring.

Atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

You try not to let it bother you. He’s probably just sleeping in. Or avoiding you after last night. You’re not sure which thought twists your stomach more.

The morning rolls on, and soon everyone gathers for the gift exchange. Laughter fills the air as ribbons are untied, wrapping paper is torn apart, and heartfelt thank-yous are exchanged. Yui squeals over the skincare set Kita picked out for her, and Aran grins ear-to-ear at the custom jersey Chizuru ordered. Even Osamu looks pleased with the knife set you picked out for him, ruffling your hair as he thanks you.

But as the last gifts are unwrapped, you realize something’s missing.

Everyone else has given you something, no matter how small—a book from Chizuru, earrings from Yui, a scarf from Suna—but Atsumu’s name is noticeably absent.

You don’t say anything, but you feel the knot of disappointment settle in your chest. Maybe it’s silly to care so much. Maybe it’s selfish. But after the week you’ve had, after all the bickering, the teasing, and everything you heard last night, you thought...

You thought he’d at least try.

***

The rest of the day passes in a blur of food and laughter, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling that lingers in the back of your mind. That night, you retreat to your room early, needing the quiet to sort through your thoughts.

You’re not expecting the knock.

It’s soft at first, like he’s testing whether you’ll even respond. You hesitate, wondering if you should ignore it again like last night. But then it comes again, more insistent.

“Hey,” Atsumu’s voice calls softly through the door. “You awake?”

You don’t answer, but you also don’t move.

A pause. Then: “I know you’re probably mad at me or somethin’, but... I wanna show ya somethin’. Come on, get up. Please.”

There’s something in his voice that makes your stomach flip—nervousness, maybe, or the slightest tinge of vulnerability.

When you still don’t reply, he tries again. “There’s... there’s somethin’ I wanna say, but it’ll be easier if ya just come with me. I’ll be out back. Meet me at the hot tub if you wanna.”

His footsteps retreat, leaving you alone in the quiet.

For a moment, you just sit there, staring at the door and debating whether to follow him or let the silence stay.

But curiosity—and maybe something else—wins out. You pull yourself from the bed, slide on your slippers, and head downstairs.

thirteen.

The night air is crisp, biting against your skin as you step out onto the pool deck. The stars above are sharp pinpricks in the deep velvet sky, their light barely competing with the soft glow of the string lights strung along the edge of the fence.

Your heart pounds as you glance around, unsure of what you’re expecting. And then you see him.

Atsumu is sitting by the edge of the hot tub, his legs dipped into the warm water, hands fidgeting in his lap. The tension in his shoulders eases the moment his eyes meet yours, and he lights up in a way that makes your chest ache. He stands quickly, his movements awkward but eager, like he’s been waiting for hours just for this moment.

“You came,” he says softly, his voice carrying over the gentle hum of the water.

You nod, stepping closer, unsure what to say. There’s a nervous energy between you now, not the usual teasing or bickering, but something fragile and unspoken. 

He gestures toward the edge of the hot tub. You hesitate for only a moment before moving to sit beside him, the warmth of the bubbling water chasing away the chill in the air. Neither of you speak at first, the silence thick but not uncomfortable.

When you glance at him, you notice his hands are no longer fidgeting. Instead, they rest on his knees, tense, like he’s holding himself back.

The quiet stretches on, and you don’t know whether it’s you or him who breaks it first. But then he moves—slowly, carefully—and cups your face with his hands.

You can’t breathe. You can’t even comprehend anything but his large, warm hands gentle around your face. His thumbs brush softly against your cheeks, and his eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you—steady and unguarded—says it all.

And in that moment, you’re reminded of everything.

The way he looked at you during truth or dare, his gaze flickering with something almost too heavy to hold. The way he showed up for you, always, even when you tried to convince you both that it didn’t mean anything. The way he looked at you that very first night you met him, in the dim, crowded, musty basement of the frat house, when your heart had betrayed you by skipping a beat the very moment his golden eyes landed on you. He has never looked more beautiful; he has never seemed more human. 

You love him. Oh god. 

You love him.

Atsumu hesitates, leaning in slightly but stopping just short, his breath warm against your skin. He pauses, like he’s waiting for your permission, or maybe just bracing himself for the possibility that you’ll pull away.

Against all odds, you kiss him first.

The moment your lips meet, he lets out a small, almost startled sound before kissing you back. His hands slide to the sides of your neck, steady and sure, while his lips move against yours like he’s been imagining this for years. He holds you like he’s terrified that this isn’t real, like if he lets go then you’ll disappear. Your fingers knot in his t-shirt, his hand gets lost in your hair, you are breathless in every way but you don’t care because if he wanted to steal the air straight from your lungs you would let him. 

When you finally part, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin, both of you quiet as the world seems to settle into a kind of peace. For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression so tender and full of awe that you wonder if he’s committing this moment to memory. And then he grins—a smile so wide and full of boyish delight that it makes your heart skip a beat.

“So you do like me,” he teases, his voice warm, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You snort. “Nah, I change my mind. I hate you.”

He rolls his eyes because he knows you’re bluffing, and just kisses you again.

The two of you sit there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other and the quiet intimacy of the night. But then you remember something, a question that’s been gnawing at the back of your mind all day.

“Atsumu?”

“Hmm?” he hums, still holding you close, his fingers absently tracing small circles against your skin.

“Why didn’t you get me a Christmas gift?”

He freezes for a moment, blinking at you like he’s just remembered something. “Oh, crap.”

“What?” you ask, laughing at the sudden panic in his face.

“That’s what I came here for,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, before quickly standing and rummaging through the pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out a small, folded cloth pouch, holding it carefully in his hands like it’s something precious.

“I’ve had this for years,” he says, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as he sits back down beside you. “And I didn’t know if I should give it to ya. Or if it was even the right time. But... I guess it is now.”

He opens the pouch and carefully empties its contents into his hand.

You stare, halting as you take in what’s inside:

A small square of paper with the element “Au” drawn on it, the edges worn like it’s been folded and unfolded a thousand times. “From freshman year chem,” he explains softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You were the only one who laughed when I joked that it stood for Atsumu instead of gold.”

A torn scrap of notebook paper with your name written on it in messy handwriting. “Greek match,” he says, chuckling quietly. “I wrote it down when they paired us up. Figured it’d be my one excuse to talk to ya.”

A dried, pressed petal from a rose. “Semi-formal,” he murmurs. “You were wearin’ that red dress, and I was an idiot who thought bringin’ roses was a good idea. You said they were beautiful, but you... you were somethin’ else entirely.”

There’s other little things, little bits and pieces from the two years you’ve known each other, little reminders that you can barely remember a time where he wasn’t in your life. Atsumu has been a part of your routine since the day he met you. You lived eighteen years without knowing him, but you can’t imagine living without him anymore. 

And then, as if you weren’t touched enough, he passes you another small wrapped item. You gently peel back the paper to find the Mt. Iwate snow globe he had bought before you could last week. 

As you cradle the snow globe in your hands, the memory of that day comes rushing back—Atsumu’s smug grin as he held up the very item you’d been planning to buy, the gleam of satisfaction in his golden eyes when you’d glared at him. You’d been so furious, so determined to outmatch him for the rest of the trip, but now, holding the snow globe in your hands, all you can feel is an overwhelming warmth.

“You…” Your voice falters as you run your thumb over the cool glass, watching the tiny flakes swirl around the miniature Mt. Iwate. “You bought this for me?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Felt bad for bein’ an ass that day. But ya stormed off before I could give it to ya, and then… I guess I kept it, hopin’ one day it’d mean more.”

You blink at him, at the boy sitting beside you, nervously scratching the back of his neck. The boy who had spent two years teasing and frustrating you, yet somehow still managed to worm his way into your heart. The boy who’d quietly kept a snow globe and a collection of mementos, waiting for the right moment to share them with you.

“Atsumu…” Your voice is soft, almost fragile, as you set the snow globe down and turn to face him fully. “This is—” You pause, searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“I know,” he says quickly, his gaze dropping to the water, then back to you. “But I wanted to. You’re… important to me, y’know? And I don’t always show it the right way, but—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you interrupt, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice. “I get it. I do.”

His eyes search yours, his expression caught somewhere between relief and disbelief. For a moment, the two of you just sit there, the night air heavy with unsaid things. Then you reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his, and his breath catches audibly.

“You’re not as bad as you think you are,” you tease lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your voice wavers with the weight of everything unspoken.

“Yeah?” His grin is lopsided, nervous, but the spark of playfulness in his eyes is unmistakable. “Don’t get used to me bein’ this sweet, though. Still gotta keep you on your toes.”

You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, your fingers still tangled with his. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

For a while, you sit in companionable silence, the bubbling of the hot tub and the distant chirping of crickets filling the air. You watch as the snow globe sits on the edge of the tub, the flakes settling gently at the base. Somehow, it feels like everything—your bickering, his teasing, the hesitant steps toward this moment—has led to this: an unspoken understanding that this, whatever it is between you, is real.

Finally, Atsumu breaks the silence. “So… was that the right gift?” He nudges your shoulder lightly, his tone casual but his eyes searching.

You pretend to think, your lips twitching into a smirk. “Hmm… It’s alright, I guess.”

His jaw drops in mock offense, his free hand flying to his chest. “Alright? Do you know how much thought I put into that?”

You grin, squeezing his hand. “It’s perfect, Atsumu.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his golden eyes warm and steady. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Because you’re kinda perfect to me, too.”

And just like that, he has you all over again—breathless, flustered, and hopelessly in love. You lean up and kiss him, slow and soft, and when you pull back, his boyish grin is so bright it almost hurts to look at.

“Alright, enough mushy stuff,” you say, standing up and stretching, though your heart is still racing. “I’m freezing, and I need to head back inside before I turn into an icicle.”

Atsumu groans dramatically but follows your lead, climbing out of the hot tub and grabbing the snow globe for you. He drapes his hoodie around your shoulders as you head back toward the cabin, the warmth of it—and him—chasing away the cold.

As you walk, side by side, you realize something: revenge had been the last thing on your mind tonight. Because somehow, Atsumu had managed to do what he always did—get under your skin and make himself impossible to hate. And for once, you weren’t going to fight it.

Tomorrow, you might bicker again. He might steal your favorite mug, or you might prank him during breakfast. But tonight, under the glow of the stars and the string lights, you let yourself fall a little deeper, knowing he’d be there to catch you.

⨭ closing; i love this one sm honestly. i lowkey even drew out the room plan of the cabin in case ur curious, which looks like this:

btw all the sorority girls mentioned are actually the girls' karasuno team lol; i'm trying rly hard to keep these stories all in the same universe but there are so few girls in the hq universe and even less in high school </3 wld it be confusing if i started reusing kiyoko and yachi as y/n's besties it wld be so much easier on me :')

vote down below or maybe offer some suggestions for other ways to work around the lack of girl besties/roommates/etc (ie. maybe age change!older/younger sisters??)

[zumicho]

WHITE DENIM OVERALLS — a suna rintarou x reader SMAU

m.list

tags, cws grief & loss, found family, angst, possibly ooc, language

synopsis : you stopped believing in love the day your dad passed—leaving you to pay the debt left off from building his dream bakery. when your long term boyfriend breaks off a three year long relationship via text, you wonder if you have any more life left to live. heaven sends you a surprise ◡̈

© ZUMICHO 2024 all rights reserved. do not repost, edit, or translate my works on any platform.

────────────────────────

profiles

prologue: tiny suburban bakery

001: iced lemon loaves / self deprecating humor

002: venn diagram

003: monsters under the bed

004: softness vs. survival

005: not waiting for you anymore

006: building the same house

007: blue door deja vu

epilogue: somewhere between

status : completed 🍞

extras ness’ extras ness’ recs + overview

────────────────────────

[miyasstan]

Streets are saying Haikyuu Time Skip is being animated!!!!! I am afraid of the person I'm gonna become if it happens, you better hide Mr Onigiri Miya, EJP Middle Blocker Suna Rintarou, Argentina official setter Oikawa Tooru, Brazil Hinata Shoyou and those MSBY idiots or respectfully I am omw :)

[entwnii]

it’s already late at night when 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 walks out of the gym, his sport bag in his hand.

the droplets of water falling from his platinum blonde hair run down his face and the back of his neck. paired with the chill breeze of the night, it makes a trail of shivers run down his spine and goosebumps appear on his light skin.

god, why did he forget to bring a towel ?

he grabs his keys from the back pocket of his shorts before opening the car’s door, throwing his sport bag somewhere on the backseat while he slides down on the driver seat.

he turns his car on, a white porsche 718 spyder, hoping that his hair will dry during the ride home before driving off to your shared apartment.

the wind that blows through his blonde locks makes the pro athlete sigh in contentment, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips as he drives through the busy streets of osaka, the neon lights of the stores lighting his face in various colors.

it doesn’t take him longer than twenty minutes to get to his residence, parking his convertible car in it’s usual spot.

atsumu grabs his bag’s handle and gets out of the car before locking it. he walks over to the apartment building’s entrance, opening the door and making his way to the staircase.

once he reaches the third floor, he walks over to the door of your shared apartment, the only one on the third floor.

the blonde-haired man unlocks the front door with his keys before stepping inside.

your fiancé carefully closes the door behind him, not wanting to wake you up. he kicks his shoes off his feet before placing his sport bag on the floor next to the door.

atsumu’s dark brown eyes are attracted by a small light coming from the living room.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the pro volleyball player walks over to the living room, scratching the back of his neck.

the frown on his face immediately disappears at the sight in front of him, a fond smile replacing it.

the television is on, mamma mia is currently playing on the screen, one of your favorite movies. there’s a plate of muffins on the coffee table, blueberry and lemon ones with powdered sugar icing on top along with a glass bottle of lemonade.

all the while you are laying on the skandi couch, facing the television, visibly asleep. one of your cheeks is pressed against the back of your hand, your eyes closed and your plump lips slightly parted. soft breaths escape you as one of atsumu’s large shirts is draped over your body.

despite all of his efforts not to wake you up, atsumu’s foot bumps into one of the couch’s footers, making him yelp at the sudden pain, which wakes you up.

atsumu watches as you turn around, facing the couch’s back, a frown on your face while a small whine escapes you. your eyelashes flutter open, trying to adjust your eyesight to the light coming from the television.

as you sit up, you start rubbing your eyes, letting a groan of complain before finally glancing to the side, glaring at your fiancé.

“sorry, baby.” atsumu flashes you a small smile, a hint of regret visible in his eyes, despite his urge to laugh at your sleepy appearance.

“how’s my future mama ?” he asks as he places his hands on the back of the skandi couch, leaning towards you.

“fine, but she was quite calm until you arrived.” you accusingly tell him, a subtle frown on your features as you place a hand on your baby bump.

“‘t’s not my fault she likes my voice.” atsumu lets out a chuckle, placing a hand on the side of your face, turning your head to place a small peck on your plump lips. “only two months left…”

you let out a small hum at his words, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

atsumu parts away from your plump lips, licking his own. “imma eat somethin’, what do ya wanna eat ?”

you scratch the bridge of your nose with your nails, thinking about his offer. “i want vanilla ice cream… with olive oil and salt.”

atsumu nods his head at your request, a small ‘kay’ leaving his lips before he walks over to the kitchen.

he knows better than to criticize your cravings, especially since it isn’t the weirdest one out of your seven months of pregnancy.

your fiancé turns on the kitchen’s lights, scratching the back of his neck as he walks around the kitchen to gather the ingredients.

he grabs two bowls from one of the drawers before turning over to the fridge and opening it. he grabs the vanilla ice cream container along with his oatmeal and the milk.

atsumu places a good amount of oatmeal into his bowl before pouring some milk on top and putting the bowl on the side.

he then begins to scoop out some vanilla ice cream, placing it in the second bowl before grabbing the olive oil. he pours a trail of the oil on top of the ice cream and sprinkles some sea salt on top.

the blonde-haired boy wipes the kitchen counter, cleaning the small mess he made, and puts the ingredients back in the fridge.

he grabs both the bowls, along with two tablespoons and walks back to the living room.

“here ya go, pretty girl.” atsumu announces with a grin on his face as he hands you your bowl and a spoon.

he slides on the skandi couch right next to you and digs into his oatmeal. he glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches the pleased expression on your face as you savor the ice cream.

“do you want to try it, ‘tsumu ?” you ask as you look over at atsumu, pointing to the mixture in your bowl with your spoon.

“nah, i’m not trustin’ you with that.” he shakes his head, a loud laugh escaping him.

safe to say that you were pissed at him after that, which only made him laugh more.

[lizzy06]

Atsumu Miya x Reader Fic Recs!!

(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Inarizaki Fic Rec Masterlist

A Debt Repaid✨ by matchumu (oneshot, sibling love)"Just keep the money." Atsumu repeats. "Don't think of it as a charity. Just think of it as a debt repaid."It was Miya Atsumu who bought the first Onigiri Miya store. [COMPLETED]

a world without you by my side by farozaan (oneshot, happy ending, waking up in alternate au, time travel) He wanted just a single day without his brother all around him. That would be paradise. Miya Osamu makes a wish and regrets it. [COMPLETED]

shrimply in love ✨ by @caelivir (oneshot, fluff) atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.[COMPLETED]

MSBY! Soulmate x Reader by @watevermelon (oneshot, fluff, slight angst to fluff, mutual pinning)You knew all about his personality, whether through the rumor vine or the numerous warnings your friends gave you. But there was no avoiding it - he was your soulmate after all .[COMPLETED]

The Boy Next door by @quirrrky (neighbors, humor, enemies to lovers, fake dating, friends to lovers) Your new neighbor is everything you’ll never ask for. Your life starts changing for better and for worse when Miya Atsumu rents the apartment next to you. The most unfortunate part? Everything about him. With his annoying good looks and equally irritating charm, how can you not resist the boy next door? [HIATUS??] <this is a lovely fic but has not been updated in a while, but I am still putting it up here !!>

In Screaming Color✨ by moonmayhem (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)A soulmate AU where, if you dye your hair, your soulmate's hair changes as well. [COMPLETED]

an epilogue of sorts by mooshys (oneshot, fluff, humor)Atsumu wants to prove that he definitely knows his way around the kitchen by opting to cook dinner for you to celebrate your one year anniversary together. Thing is, he needs a little help if he wants to impress you tonight.[COMPLETED]

Shower Friends ✨✨by just_j(fake dating, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst)The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s even remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. And when he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme to convince them he does. [COMPLETED]

A Genius mess by @mimi-cee-hq (oneshot, fluff)Atsumu insults you, the quietest girl in his class. But as he gets to know you, your few words often leave him blushing.[COMPLETED]

(un)loving miya atsumu✨✨ by alicemitch09(angst, Unrequited love, Jealousy, Happy ending)You were 9 when you first met the Miya twins when you moved to Hyogo. The two boys would eventually turn to be your closest friends, as much as rascals the two can be. you loved one twin more than the other - a love that was more than friendship. Sadly, Atsumu obviously loved your big sister more. Of course he did, she was everything you were not.[COMPLETED]

incomplete song ✓✨ | angst, post break up | one shot | by @tooruluv

Hecklin' ✨by Airomi (fluff, humor) according to your experience, bothering someone so much that they fall in love. [COMPLETED]

Call You Mine [Miya Atsumu X Reader] by tsumusamu(friends to lovers, fluff, angst, mutual pinning)Being in unrequited love with your best friend sucks. It's even worse when the friend you're in love with is Miya Atsumu. [ONGOING]

That's My Girl by wttcsms(oneshot, smut) Atsumu Miya gets jealous.[COMPLETED]

Jealous atsumu ✨ by @etherrreal (oneshot, fluff, comfort)atsumu swears he’s not the jealous type, until the pictures you post with his brother prove him wrong.[COMPLETED]

little changes ✨by kuroopaisen (enemies to friend to lovers, past roommates )Miya Atsumu is the bane of your existence. but, that means different things at different times of your life.[COMPLETED]

Mind Boggling Pt 1, Pt 2✨ by @seokiloquy (soulmate au, fluff, humor)At particular times (Once a year/ certain age/ hours/ or randomly) soulmates swap bodies for some time.[COMPLETED]

“These Words”  by @myhaikyuuthings (oneshot, soulmate au, angst)soulmate au your soulmates last words ever said are on your body, they turn red when said, first words ever said to you are on another part of your body, they turn gold when said.[COMPLETED]

with our fates tangled together by @chunhua (oneshot, angst to fluff) soulmates are bound together by a red string.[COMPLETED]

Unexpectedly yours by @love-nishinoya-yu (Soulmate au, oneshot) You have the same tattoos.[COMPLETED]

nice receive✨   by @tsumusamu (oneshot, fluu, humor) eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don’t go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it’s easy to see why.[COMPLETED]

I’m Here, So Sleep by @dokifluffs (oneshot, fluff, comfort) Warnings: anxiety towards school and life, overthinking, insomnia. [COMPLETED]

Set the Bar High by BeansNCornbread(enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, angst)A college AU where you work at an off campus bar and when Atsumu finds this out, he never leaves you alone. Classic enemies to lovers storyline with serendipity, snide comments, and a whole lot of sexual tension.[COMPLETED]

you're not the one✨ ✨ by heartcondemned (fake dating, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst) How to make your lifelong crush jealous and like you back? Easy.Fake date one of his friends. [COMPLETED]

So...What do Ya say? by @yourstarvic After finding your fiancé you have been with many years cheating on your best friend. You tried to confront them but they never showed up…So what do you do? You drink at the bar trying to figure out what to do. And who else there to help you if not the good looking stranger you met at the bar? [COMPLETED]

Email Me Why✨ by @yourstarvic(oneshot, fluff, humor)Atsumu needs to come up with the perfect email to go on a date with his captain's little sister. [COMPLETED]

You okay? by @yourstarvic (oneshot, angst) It's your wedding day, atsumu is sad. [COMPLETED]

lazy texter by myhugelove (fluff, humor, online friends to lovers) a short fic in which a schoolmate who is not on his phone much suddenly becomes great at texting when it comes to you. [COMPLETED]

you found me✨ by Amy_stark117(fluff, angst, eventual smut)Miya Atsumu had his life goals set - volleyball, fame, and success. Nothing could stand in his way. You threw all that out the window, simply by sitting next to him in class. [COMPLETED]

7 Reasons by Channelei(mutual pinning, fluff, humor)in which you realize why you fell in love with your hot headed, over-confident, cocky, arrogant asshole of a best friend.[COMPLETED]

then the moment came by @justauthoring (oneshot, soulmate au, loosely based of silent voice) It just never was the right time. Not then, not later, until it suddenly is and everything’s… different.[COMPLETED]

Diligence ✨by kaientai (friends to lovers, childhood friends, requited unrequited love) Diligence requires the courage of a fool who wouldn't think twice before walking into an open flame, and in the span of a few months, your childhood friend Atsumu proved that he truly is one of the biggest fools to date. [COMPLETED]

Forget me,too ✨ by @saintobio (oneshot, angst, hurt/comfort, past lovers) after a series of broken promises and unresolved arguments, perhaps all atsumu needed is to hear you say good bye for one last time.[COMPLETED]

sweetner ✨ by flying_raijin(fake dating, fluff, angst, humor)you're just being petty. Faking a relationship with the first guy in sight after the love of your life dumps you out of nowhere? [COMPLETED]

How He Shows You Affection by @jayeray-hq(oneshot, fluff)[COMPLETED]

He’s My Best Friend by @jayeray-hq(oneshot, fluff)[COMPLETED]

White noise ✨ by 1keshi(childhood friends, friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, angst) you force a therapist to listen to the story of how you fell in love with your childhood friend, because what else are you supposed to do? [COMPLETED]

A Bit Yours ✨by Declaraso (fake dating, enemies to lovers, humor) Atsumu's clumsy with words. You think he's a jerk. But for some reason, you both agreed to go through such a stupid plan.[COMPLETED]

The Breaking Point✨ by melremade(smut, oneshot)They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. When it comes to Miya Atsumu, it might as well be a brick wall topped with barbed wire and surrounded by a minefield. [COMPLETED]

Perfect Union by wttcsms(oneshot, fluff, smut, friends to lovers)[COMPLETED]

Laws of Motion by miyachondria (friends to lovers, slowburn)First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage -- according to every other person.[ONGOING]

(1) One Missed Call by satorini (teetorini)(smut)You work for an anonymous phone sex business on campus, and you would have never guessed that your first client would be the Atsumu Miya—most popular guy on campus who sits three seats ahead of you in calculus. And you're pretty sure he doesn't even know you exist. [ONGOING]

One Day by flying_raijin()When you get asked by Vogue Japan to be the star of their "Day in the life of a Pro Volleyball player" video, you agree because you don't think there's much that could go wrong. Unfortunately, your boyfriend is an absolute menace, and decides to act as such for the whole world to see.[COMPLETED]

FWB by flying_siphonophore(fluff, smut, angst, mutual pinning)What comes after a kiss that shouldn't have happened in the first place?[COMPLETED]

lovestruck, watching over you by strawberricream(fluff, mutual pinning)in your second year of high school, you catch atsumu’s eye. he tries to get to know you when he realizes that it didn’t take much work to open you up. in your third year together in the same class, he realizes that the hard work came from elsewhere.[COMPLETED]

Storm Chaser by sunmoonstarsrain()Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it's impossible to tame a storm.[COMPLETED]

A Second Chance by Gremlin_Lord (Unplanned pregnancy, angst, fluff) Atsumu broke up with you 3 years ago. But fate had other plans and decided to reunite the two together with your kid along. [ONGOING]

[slut4msby]

first kiss. miya osamu x reader

+ tags & warnings; not proofread & v rushed </3 also like quiet a lot of swearing (mainly just the use of the word 'shit')

+ a/n; day 6/7!! one more day to go before i go take a LONGGGG nap (i wish :<) but yeah this isn't the best written but here u go bc im on my osamu shit atm <3

“So you’re seriously telling me, THE Miya Osamu has never kissed anyone?” You teased the now embarrassed dark harder boy. “Like THE Miya Osamu, like brother to like the schools biggest flirt Miya Atsumu? What’s next your brother hasn’t either? I always knew the Miya twins were FULL of surprises but this, THIS is new.”

“Ew, I don’t wanna know who my brother is kissing and shit.” He said defensively.

“Why?” You questioned.

“Whaddya mean why? Because it’s weird he is like my brother I don’t wanna know what girls he’s snogging and sh-”

“No, I mean like why haven’t ya kissed anyone ‘Samu?” You cut his ramble off, “like I’m sure there's plenty of girls willing to, you have just as many fangirls as Atsumu, just his are louder and more annoying. And apart from that there’s no denying you're an attractive man. I mean you take care of yourself as well.”

“I-I don’t know, Y/N. What I do know is I don’t wanna kiss some fangirl or some shit, I want it to be with someone I care about I guess.”

“Awww 'Samu, that's so cute.” You gushed at his response.

“Shut it, Y/N.” 

As the conversation comes to halt the school bell rings, ending your first break of the day. “I’ll see ya later, ‘Samu. You smile walking down the hall to your class. You sit in your seat next to Osamu’s twin brother, Atsumu.

“Hey, Y/N-chan~” He says as you sit down.

“Hey ‘Tsumu? Ya know ‘Samu has never kissed anyone, like isn’t that just kinda bizarre. Like he’s funny, a good cook, handsome, good at sport ya know what more could a girl want? Like I know he’s seen women and shit but I dunno it’s just weird, I kinda feel bad.” You say towards Atsumu.

“If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him or something? I’m sure that’d shut him up. Ya both never shut up about each other, it’s kinda annoying.” 

“He talks about me?!” You say with a pink stain spreading across your face.

“Did ya hear what Y/N-chan said earlier, did you see Y/N-chan today, I think I’m gonna bring Y/N-chan some food tomorrow, Y/N-chan this, Y/N- chan that and every time I tell him to shut his trap.” Atsumu sighed, placing his head in his hands, “and yer not any better Y/N.”

“I don’t talk about him that much.” You say crossing your arms, frowning at Atsumu. Atsumu just rolled his eyes in response. Not long after your teacher began teaching her lesson, you couldn’t stop thinking about the twins' words. “If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him”  “to be with someone I care about I guess” “Ya both never shut up about each other”. There was certainly no denying your attraction to the silver haired twin. But in your years of knowing him, neither of you showed any romantic interest in each other. You had both seen a range of people, every breakup the same. Ending with one comforting the other, “they were such a dick anyway” or “I never really liked them to begin with.”

As the school day concluded, you decided to watch the volleyball teams practice. A common occurrence at this point.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Suna said as he entered the gym, Osamu behind him. Osamu looked up to give you a smile, which you returned. No hey or hug like you were used to. There was something different about Osamu this time.

As you watched the boys practice, you would have some casual conversation with the team. Giggling and smiling, but never Osamu. It was always Osamu, but not since your conversation earlier.

Eventually Osamu was alone for the first time the whole practice, so you decided to confront him on his weird behaviour. “‘Samu?” You ask softly, his head poking up to look at you, “you’re acting weird, is everything okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Y/N. Just a little stressed, school and all that,” He mumbled softly before returning back to practise leaving you dumbfounded. 

“You know that’s not the reason right, Y/N?” Suna said from behind you. Causing you to look behind you, giving him a look of curiosity. “Apparently Atsumu sent him a message earlier, I dunno what it was exactly about but it was something about you that’s for sure.” After Suna finished speaking he grabbed his water bottle and walked away.

You couldn’t focus on the last part of their practices, instead you were left wondering from Suna’s words. As practice concluded, you could hear the Miya’s bickering as you began leaving before Osamu called out to you, “Y/N-chan!” You stop in your tracks turning to face the twin jogging towards you, “can we talk for a second, please?”

“Oh sure.”

You and Osamu walked in silence, an awkward silence in drastic contrast to the usual comfortable silence before reaching a private area.

“I uhm- about earlier I’m sorry for like acting weird…” he said fiddling with his fingers, “it’s just ‘Tsumu sent me a stupid text and It’s just like bothering me and-”

“Osamu.” You cut him off, looking at him in the face, “can I kiss you? I know you said you wanted it to be someone you care about-”

Your words were cut off as Osamu placed his hand on your chin, pulling you closer before your lips collided. The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, a fusion of unspoken emotions and shared history. As you both pulled away, heat rising on both of your faces. Before Osamu let out a chuckle, “did ‘Tsumu get you too?”

“Mhm. Glad he did though.” You say wrapping your arms around, Osamu. 

“Fucking finally. You owe me some puddin’.” Atsumu said towards Suna, who just rolled his eyes in response.

©slut4msby.

[kiyoomi-levin]

somethin' new (miya twinsxF!reader) <NSFW>

a/n i'm working on like 3 other fics rn but i found this in my drafts and thought it was good enough to publish (with a LOT of polishing ofc). I'm new to smut writing so I'm very insecure abt this but i hope u enjoy

summary::: your older brother atsumu likes watching porn. and the twins like trying shit out on you. aka porn w plot osamu focus bc he's best boy word count::: 2.9k warnings/triggers!!!::: non-con, step-cest, stockholm syndrome-ish, the miya twins are really fucking mean and possessive, double penetration (my fave! <33)

People think the Miyas are scariest when they lose, when they're arguing with each other, or when they're distracted during a serve. 

But you know them better–actually, you know them best.

They're scariest when they're fucking you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I was watchin' porn yesterday and I wanna try somethin' new," Atsumu announces as he walks through into the living room, tossing his volleyball bag onto the couch. 

Osamu rolls his eyes, continuing to flip through his textbook at the kitchen table. 

"Why the hell would you watch porn when you got ‘er right here?" Osamu snaps back, hardly glancing up. Atsumu’s eyes shift to you as you squirm on Osamu’s lap uncomfortably. 

Osamu continues casually stroking your pussy with one hand as the other holds you down. 

You’re shaking– he’s been at this for twenty minutes now, reading his lecture notes as he continuously edges you. You haven’t given in yet, though. 

You know he’s just waiting for you to beg him for it.  

It's still hard to believe that you’re dripping on his lap and he won’t stop memorizing vocabulary for his upcoming exam.

As a final year university student, Osamu’s been under a lot of pressure. What better way to alleviate it than to play with his favorite toy?

Atsumu takes in the scene in front of him, smirking when he makes eye contact with you. You quickly turn away.

Although the twins share you, it still feels wrong when one of them catches you in the act with the other.

“Ya sure you don’t even wanna hear? I know you’ll like it, ya freak,” Atsumu says, now glancing at his brother.

You shiver at Atsumu’s words and Osamu frowns as he moves his hand away from your lap.

"Fine. Out with it, asshole," he murmurs, finally distracted from his studies. He shoves his papers aside, full attention on you now. From the corner of your eye, you see Atsumu light up. 

It’s almost comical to see the twins this way.

Always fighting, always competing— but when it comes to you they're a single organism.

"I was watchin' my favorite porn star-- ah, don't be jealous, y/n! I only watch her for inspiration because she's freaky-- and I saw her take two in one hole." 

Your eyes widen.

You wouldn't be able to take it.

"No, please," you whisper, holding your breath. Osamu’s body flexes under you reflexively.

When have you become such a pussy?

You were always the outspoken, little step-sister who fought her brothers tooth and nail for the last slice of cake. 

Nobody could have excepted them to fuck the brat out of you within a month of moving in together.

Osamu surprisingly agrees with you.

"Nah. I'm not into rubbin' dicks with you," he says, both hands on your chest now. The thought of being that close to a naked Atsumu makes him grimace.

Atsumu rolls his eyes.

"I'm not into that shit either, but I wanna see her take it." You wince as Osamu pinches your nipples, hard. He's gone completely silent, which isn't a good sign. 

“It’ll be a little painful, but I know she’ll be able to pull through,” Atsumu continues, carefully watching Osamu’s expression.

The Miya fans would be shocked to discover that Osamu's a sadist, more so than Atsumu. 

While Atsumu wipes away your tears, Osamu enjoys watching them stream down your face.

When Osamu doesn't respond, Atsumu sighs and rubs his head, frustrated. He’d been looking forward to this since last evening, when he had to jerk off to the sounds of you and Osamu going at it.

"Fine then. I'll try it myself with a toy. I bought a new dildo for her, ya know. And it's bigger than you."

No further words are needed—Osamu pulls his hands out of your shirt, and you feel him physically fuming behind you.

He's possessive, stupidly so, and hates when Atsumu buys you disgusting silicon toys and shit. 

He really doesn't understand his twin sometimes. 

Why buy toys, why watch porn, when you, his adorable, precious little bitch, exists? 

Osamu would rather lose a game at nationals before you cum off a piece of vibrating plastic. 

And he won't admit it, but deep down he's scared. Scared that it'll satisfy you better than he can. 

The less competition, the better. He's already competing with Atsumu on a daily basis.

Atsumu, who can make you squirt faster than he can. Atsumu, who makes you laugh. Atsumu, who, Osamu knows, you favor.

Maybe it's because the little shit handles you just a little better in bed. 

Osamu picks you up from classes, purchases expensive jewelry and takes you out to get sweets every week, you still shy away from his touches.

So Osamu has given up-- if you're gonna hate him anyways, he'll do whatever he wants. 

And that’s why you’re always left a humiliatingly wet mess whenever he uses you. 

"Fine. Ya better take a shower first, you fuckin' freak," Osamu says, pushing you off his lap. 

Atsumu smirks, cracking his fingers and wrists.

"You be preppin' her, 'Samu."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It feels good, but you don't want to admit it.

You’re lying on your shared king-sized bed, trying to hold back tears and moans as Osamu eats you out, pumping three of his long fingers into you quickly. 

Between the two of them, Atsumu can get you to cum faster. But Osamu gets you to cum harder. His every move is calculated–from every lick to every moment of rest he gives you.

Osamu's on a mission to get you to beg.

"Samu, please," you breathe, gripping the bed sheets. You feel him smiling, and you grip at the bedsheets. All the teasing he’d been doing before Atsumu got home is quickly catching up to you. 

“What was that?” He asks, his dark eyes taking in the conflicting emotions washing over your face. When you don’t respond, he leans back and slaps your pussy, hard. Your eyes widen in pain, and you can’t help the squeak that you release, to his satisfaction.

You’re wet, and he knows it’s not a fluke. You want him. He hasn’t trained you over this past year for nothing.

“‘You aren’t bein’ too mean, are ya?” Atsumu asks, stepping out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He’s shamelessly naked, hard from hearing your cries from the shower. 

Atsumu surveys your body, admiring the marks his twin has placed on you. 

A small part of him is thankful his brother is willing to play the role of mean cop. Atsumu gets to reap the rewards of consoling you—although he too enjoys seeing you covered in bruises and left in tears.

He’d never hurt you himself though. He likes cuddling with you and loves the way you laugh at his lame jokes too much. 

Osamu snaps him back to reality, standing up as he wipes his shiny lips with the back of his hand.

“She’s ready.”

Atsumu grins. His brother is strangely meek today---probably from you refusing to go to his practice game the other day. You had enjoyed a nice picnic date with Atsumu instead (although that ended with you shaking and moaning in Samu’s arms that night).

“I guess I’m first?”

“Ladies first.”

“You’re a bitch, ya know that?” Atsumu spits, rubbing his dick with his left hand and soaking his right in your wetness. Osamu laughs, pulling off his shirt in a smooth motion.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop shaking. The thought of having two of them in a single hole is almost too much to wrap your head around. With Osamu’s length and Atsumu’s girth, you’re sure you won’t be able to take it. 

What if you tear? Surely they’d stop if you beg hard enough.

For now, you can’t do anything but accept this. 

From what you’ve observed, when the twins are playful in bed, you shouldn’t resist.

Lost in your thoughts, you gasp as Atsumu yanks you towards him—he’s sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. You gulp as you find yourself hovering above his dick, facing Osamu, who’s busy tossing Atsumu's towel onto the ground.

“Aw, baby. Calm down, won’t ya? You know it hurts more when you’re nervous.” 

Atsumu brings your face towards him, grip so tight you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. 

His rough hands, thick from years of volleyball training, gently smoothes out your hair, and he begins to press kisses on your jawline. The motion is so welcoming that you momentarily forget he’s the one to propose this in the first place.

Osamu sighs, frustrated.  

“Get on with it, won’t ya?”

Atsumu frowns at him, pulling away from you. 

“And that, ‘Samu, is exactly why she likes me better than ya,” he says, slamming you onto him in a single motion.

It hurts!

You groan, fingers twitching. It hurts already, he’s especially hard today. What’re you going to do when it gets to the meaner twin?

Atsumu pets your clit, grinning as he feels you begin to melt into his chest. He knows exactly how you like it. That spongy spot, right… there. Your groan turns into a moan as he shifts his hips, aiming to reach deep inside of you. 

Osamu doesn’t break eye contact with you as he slowly gets onto the bed. He’s in no hurry, unfortunately. 

If he wasn't such an asshole, you'd find him hot.

You really do love his gorgeous eyes and gray hair. 

"Stop bein' a dick and get on with it," Atsumu says. He scowls at his brother, who continues to simply stare at you. 

Both of them know Osamu doesn't want to actually hurt you. He'd never break you.

You're too precious.

"W-what?" Your shaky voice intrudes into his thoughts. 

You've gone red and stopped clawing at Atsumu's unrelenting hand.

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because Atsumu is laughing now.

Fuck. 

This isn't the time to be embarrassed, though.

Osamu reaches forward, lining his dick next to his brother's. 

To be honest, he was never opposed to the idea.

Yeah, Atsumu's a disgusting pig, but he's his twin. 

There's an unbreakable bond between them and knowing they share so much DNA sometimes makes Osamu feel as though they're just one person in two bodies. He’s honestly willing to try anything that Atsumu proposes (except get him off, of course, he’ll leave that to you).

Taking a deep breath, he begins to push, using his precum as lube.

Fuckkkkkk.

Osamu's pretty sure everyone had the same thought at that exact moment.

It's so tight. It's so warm. It’s hurting you, for sure. But it feels too good to stop. 

For you, it’s suffocating, being stuck between two muscular twins. And, once again showcasing their unspoken connection, they begin to carefully move in and out of you at the same pace. 

It hurts now, and tears are burning behind your eyes, but there’s that little voice in your head telling you to just relax and enjoy it—it’ll feel good.

Why? Why does it have to feel so good when this is all wrong?

Fundamentally, twins shouldn't be sharing the same girl, at the same time.

That same girl should especially not be their little sister whom they've been older brothers to for a decade.

But what does it matter now?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atsumu's in heaven. This is better than he imagined, actually. He’s decided that he’ll take the easy route, playing with your soft breasts and sucking hickies into your neck. His dick has gone still as he simply enjoys the fast pace Osamu fucks you at. 

While there’s a slight burn against his cock every time Osamu moves, the pain only intensifies the pleasure. 

Osamu’s eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on watching his dick pump into you. He wants to curse out Atsumu for being so lazy, but at the same time— he’s always liked to be in charge. 

That voice was right, because it’s feeling good now. Your brain buzzes pleasantly and you’re losing control of your legs. 

Atsumu's moaning into your ear, Osamu's grunting with every push, and you feel hyper aware of every motion as you're slipping away. 

The dull lights of the room begin to blur.

You're crying now. Your toes are curling and drool slips out of the corner of your mouth. How stupid you must look right now.

How long has it been? 5 minutes? 5 hours?

It has to be at least that long or else the numbness that you’re beginning to experience down there doesn’t make any sense.

Atsumu has resumed his efforts in making you feel good, overstimulating every fiber of your being as he wipes away your tears and nuzzles your neck. It’d be an innocent gesture if he wasn’t rubbing circles onto your clit.

Osamu has been working like a well-oiled machine, admiring your broken face and how good his lower half feels, circulating adrenaline throughout his body. 

Just looking at you, choked up and crying, is enough. 

"I'm cumming..." he whispers. No, he’s not. He can’t. 

Not before his stupid twin does. And certainly not before you do. 

"Come on, baby, beg for it," Atsumu whispers into your ear, as if he can read his brother’s thoughts. 

Maybe they do have some sort of telepathy. Atsumu reaches forward and gently pushes down on your lower belly. You groan immediately. The slight pressure has your walls rubbing against their dicks even tighter now, and Osamu’s now grinding against that spot you love.

You’re gonna cum. Or pass out. Maybe both. 

"Please!" You shout. Fuck pride. "Please, please, please, ‘Samu, please cum."

Annnd he’s coming. Osamu reaches out, grasps your neck, and squeezes. 

Your cries are the only thing he can hear, loud enough to drown out Asumu’s words, and he’s losing sensation in his hips—

“Fuck, I love you, y/n…” Osamu says, admiring the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. 

Even as your eyesight flickers, you make out this confession, lips automatically parting to moan. 

You tighten as Osamu releases in you, Atsumu following suit shortly after (something he’ll bully Osamu about later, no doubt).

There’s a certain stillness in the room as Osamu immediately slips out of you and turns away. Post-nut clarity’s setting in, and he realizes he’s not as fond of dick rubbing with Atsumu as he was a few minutes ago. 

Atsumu’s still panting in your ear, and, after a few moments of rest, gently eases himself out of you. Unlike his usual self (who insists on cuddling with you after the deed, no matter how much bodily fluid you’re covered in) he allows you to roll away from him, still recoiling from the strong orgasm.

Surprisingly, the lazy asshole leaps off the bed first today. 

“I’ll be taking a shower first. Alone.”

You muster enough energy to glance at him, then at Osamu. It’s so awkward you’d run out of the apartment if you could. 

Osamu knows his brother is being especially kind today, letting him speak to you in private.

As Atsumu strides towards the bathroom, he catches Osamu’s eye and winks, smirking at Osamu’s middle finger.

Osamu can basically hear his twin’s inner voice— this is just payment for the fuck.

You shut your eyes, registering the closing bathroom door. Now that the pleasure has subsided, you realize that you’re just in pain. Your chest and hips, especially, from Atsumu’s relentless teasing and Osamu’s rough handling. 

Damn it. You’re meeting with your friends tomorrow, how’re you going to hide these marks on your neck from them? 

From the way Osamu had choked you, you’re almost certain there’s going to be a bruise. You do have that leftover, crusty concealer that Atsumu got you a few months back—

“y/n, do you hate me?”

Osamu’s deep voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your mouth instinctively opens, but you hesitate.

No. 

“No.”

Because you really don’t. Despite everything they put you through, you can’t bring yourself to hate them. 

Osamu lets out a silent sigh of relief, turning back to look at you. 

“Do you love me?”

You can’t answer him as quickly this time. 

Osamu and Atsumu were your brothers. They had been by your side for all of your childhood.

 They were the first ones to teach you how to ride a bike, how to multiply and divide, how to cook rice. 

They had been your first love. And even now… you’re relieved they’re with you, not in the bedrooms of other girls.

“I… do,” you admit. Fuck. You’re crazy. You know that. But you do. 

Even though you don’t want to admit it, you’re just as twisted as your brothers. You bury your head under the covers as the heat rushes to your face. 

“I wanna marry you.” Osamu suddenly announces, ripping back the blanket you’re holding to your face. He examines your blushing cheeks, and reaches down to grab your hand. 

Yeah, it’d look much fucking better with a shiny ring. He should look into a jewelry maker first thing tomorrow morning.

“Nope. I already called dibs, ‘Samu,” the blonde haired setter interjects, throwing open the door as if awaiting his cue. 

“Like months ago. Actually, years ago.”

Osamu frowns, prepared to retort back that actually, remember that you didn’t even like her when we first met her? You told dad you didn’t want him to marry mom because you didn’t want a sister, you little–

“We’re all Miyas here,” you say, predicting another fight. Despite your tiredness, you can't help but smile. 

Yeah, you do love them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n fun fact: i wrote this while meeting with my business class project group two semesters ago >.< depraved shit FR.. also no final read-through as usual bc i'm literally cringed out by my own writing LOL

[justmywriting1313]

Soft (Osamu x reader)

Adult, business-owning boyfriend!Osamu is without a doubt the type of partner who would slowly yet firmly bring out the soft, tender-hearted childish part of you... and it would be without either of you even realising it... only when someone else pointed it out would it strike you both and even then it would hit you a lot more than it would Samu. Not because he doesn't care but because to him that is the natural order of the world. When and where else were you allowed to be soft, tender and just taken care of if not with your big beefy boyfriend...

It's a cold winter night, but you all are sitting by the riverside, a blanket spread out and a collapsible table in the back holding food and drinks. The little group consists of you, Osamu, Suna, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and a bunch of the other MSBY boys. Everyone is either nursing a drink or munching on snacks prepared by you and your boyfriend.

Osamu is sitting in the center of the blanket between a tipsy Suna and an amused Iwaizumi. Feet flat on the ground, knees spread apart, with his body hunched over yours, which is tucked against him. You are sitting between his legs, head thrown back against his shoulder, all warm and cozy. You let Samu hold up most of your weight as you melt into his chest, your hands playing with one of his own. Outside of setting up your little picnic and grabbing the occasional drink, it's how you spend most of your night. Somewhere behind you, you can hear Sakusa's indifferent voice talking to Kageyama. In front of you, Atsumu, Kotarou, and Shoyou are bickering over the last tuna mayo onigiri.

Every few minutes, Samu pecks your temple, quietly whispering snarky comments about others or chuckling deeply in your ear. He occasionally peppers kisses along your shoulder, and each time, you smile and mumble your agreement. You watch Atsumu fail to get the last onigiri from Bokuto as the much larger man chomps onto the rice in one bite. You giggle at the blonde's dismayed expression, which immediately grabs his attention.

"Y/N, don't laugh at me… it's not fair, ya know… that onigiri was rightfully mine." "Awww, don't pout, Tsumu. Stop by the store tomorrow, okay? I'll keep an order prepared for you." "One, I'm not pouting; I'm brooding. And two… You're the best, sweetheart. Have I told ya that?"

You just giggle, watching Atsumu jump about in happiness before he comes to a standstill. He takes a seat opposite you and Samu, legs crossed together. His eyes are trained on you, and you can only look back at him and smile. He smiles back wide before he speaks in a voice much quieter than before,

"Ya know, Y/N, I have never seen ya look so… so soft… unguarded even… it's probably the cutest thing ever."

His words are not at all what you were expecting, and they leave you gobsmacked and shy. You feel your cheeks heat up at the attention, especially when the boys around you start to peer in. Iwaizumi bends over trying to peek at your face against Osamu's hunched-over body. When your surprised doe eyes meet his, he chuckles in agreement,

"You aren't wrong, Astumu… definitely cute."

Suna does the same on the other side, one hand coming and lightly pinching your cheek.

"Mhmm, it is adorable… you should keep her hidden, Samu, otherwise someone's going to steal her away." "Oh yeah? Ya one of those people, Sunarin?"

Finally, your boyfriend chimes in, you can feel his chest move as you bend back to look at him. You find his eyes already trained on you despite talking to Suna. His lidded eyes and soft smirk are an expression you would remember forever. You have never felt more loved and wanted in all your life, and you are quick to shy away from all the attention,

"You guys… go away. Smack around a ball or something."

You can feel Samu's chest rumble as he chuckles at your timidness while Atsumu jumps up to grab the ball and Shoyou. Suna pinches your cheek again, making you whine while Iwaizumi musses up your hair. Chatter seems to surround you again, but your mind is stuck on those words. They stay floating through your consciousness while the boys horse around, sometimes jolting when Osamu's body moves. The thoughts stay there while everyone packs, all of you too tired now and wanting to get home. It's all you can think about, even as Osamu grabs the heavy and lighter bags from your hand in one of his own, his other hand holding onto yours tightly. When you look up at him, he is already smiling down at you.

"Are ya okay, sweetheart? You've been quiet as a mouse, ya know."

You just hum, instead of leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Osamu makes it easier by leaning down, quirking a brow at the soft gesture, but he doesn't say anything more. Instead, you walk down to the car, Sakusa helping to carry a drunk Atsumu along.

Soft. Soft. Soft… You sit in the passenger seat, looking out the window, with Atsumu and Sakusa in the back bickering with one another as usual.

You had never been soft…

You had never been soft in the sense that you were just never for others to see… Your softness, you had decided early on, was yours, and you would not give others a chance to abuse it because there were too many times where it had been… So when did it all change? When did it go from something secret to something celebrated?

Looking back, though, it was never really a question… Being soft with Osamu just happened as if you didn't know how to exist in any other way with him. You just couldn't… Not when he always bends down and ties your laces for you, nor when he always opens the car door and buckles your seat belt in because 'precious cargo' always needs to be strapped in. You didn't have a choice in keeping your softness hidden when you woke up to flowers on the table at least once a week, and when you asked Samu why, he just shrugged his shoulders and said pretty things should always be surrounded by pretty things. You didn't have a choice in hiding your tender heart when Samu has always had a hold on it, pulling it out of you and then keeping it on a pedestal for everyone to see but for no one else to touch.

Turning to look at him right now, one of his hands on the wheel, quietly humming something with his other hand on your thigh, gripping both your leg and your hand, you were hit with the intensity of Samu's love. And although his eyes never leave the road, you know he knows you're looking at him. You see him smile as the car comes to a stop in front of Atsumu's house. He turns to look at you, and when his eyes meet yours, he chuckles before leaning in to peck your lips. You have to stop yourself from deepening it because he has to help Sakusa get Atsumu to bed.

And when he comes back outside alone, your eyes immediately find him even in the dark outside. You roll the window down, his arms coming to rest on the door, head leaning in until you were so close you could feel his breath on your own lips.

"Ya sure you're alright mhmmm? Sure ya got nothing to tell me"

His nose comes to lightly nudge yours,

"Nothing to tell you Samu, promise, just been thinking that's all" "How about you tell me what about? might make me feel better" "Just thinking about how happy I am being yours thats all"

Your words knock the breath right out of Samu and he lets out a sounds thats something between a chuckle and a groan before he's leaning away to open your door. Before you can question him his hands find you face, lips landing on yours. Samu kisses you like its all he can do not to stop himself every second of every day, a desperate growl of approval leaving him as he does so before he pulls away and says,

"I will never get over how soft ya make me love, never!"

[strwbivy]

OSAMU HUSBAND HEADCANNONS .ᐟ

cw/tags. no warnings, fluffy, timeskip!osamu, husband!osamu (￣y▽,￣)╭

m.list // hq. masterlist

you've got mail ✉ ! i have nothing really to say except i am doing y'alls requests they are so creative! ++ we are so near 100 followers!! thank you all for the support you have given me :D

♡ you get to eat his deliciously homemade packed lunches made were with love, that came with the sweetest notes that never failed to not make your day.

♡ anytime he makes onigiri, you get to see his sleeves rolled up, revealing his toned biceps that flexed whenever he presses the rice to shape into a triangle and his thick fingers that firmly pressed on the rice, making sure the onigiri's form was perfect.

♡ he always takes care of the household chores for you. as soon as you get home from work and he notices your tired appearance, he automatically helps you get some rest as he tells you he'll take care of everything.

♡ he's 100% an amazing husband. he's known for his laid-back personality but, there's a domestic side to him. osamu is the kind of person who takes pleasure when he take's care of someone, or anything honestly.

♡ he's definitely a good cook (obviously) and takes great care of the house. he wipes and mops up every speck of dust, leaving a clean polished finish to any surface.

♡ okay this is probably kinda repeated but, osamu is quite responsible and reliable! meaning he would likely be able to take care of the household needs and tasks. making him a great house husband.

♡ he absolutely loves when he cooks with you! it's one of his favorite ways to spend time with you. even if you make a make a mistake sometimes, he'll just laugh come and give you a helping hand.

♡ this man loves to make you little snacks from time to time. he loves making your favorite snacks. and he always makes sure you are well fed and is eating at the right time.

♡ him having atsumu as his sibling, means that you go to most of his volleyball matches or you watch it on your tv. he always has a proud expression whenever he watched his twin play. the way he supported his brother has your heart melting from the sweetness.

copyright © strwbivy ↣ do not copy, translate or repost.

[kozukn]

#MIDMIYA ⠀─┈┈ ⠀ATSUMU MIYA

001. cupcake recipe

content. like two fat jokes, profanity, mention of el*n musk 🤮🤮

< previous masterlist next >

    chapter facts     ˖     ⸺⠀   !

– the girls don’t know yet but mio’s kinda in love with kenma

– her ass is not slick 😭🙅‍♀️

– sawako has a soft spot for yaeko

– the girls are the only ones aware that y/n is behind @midmiya

taglist is now open so lmk if u wanna be added! :3

⸺ tags; @jayathelostdragon @reocidal @tabiito

@kozukn