HJSKSNSOS YOUR TAGS ON MY BAKUGO PIECE MADE ME GIGGLE TYSM

Hihihi congrats on the milestone!👀 can I get atsumu with 📷(is it this camera or the camera that is flashing idk hhhhhh)? If you wanna have something to base it in, I really like “驀然回首那人卻在燈火闌柵處” from 青玉案 which I know isn’t a happy prose exactly but let’s be shallow for a second and take it at face value hehe😌

Miya Atsumu x Confession (708 words)

For Cadence <3 – not quite a meet-cute because the poetry you gave me didn’t quite fit that, but I hope this suffices. 

Masterlist link here

You return home for Hatsumode in January, a dutiful daughter who heeds her mother’s call. So too, do the Miya twins, though you suspect Atsumu rather resents the relentless nagging from his mother asking him when he’s going to bring home a prospective daughter in law from the way he escapes from his parent’s house, scaling the fence to sit beside you on your parent’s garden swing, a bottle of sake as his entry fee.

“I already told her that dating’s a pain. They all just wanna date me cos they think volleyball players rake in cash, but c’mon, ya know how I’m underpaid especially if I don’t land any sponsors.”

 A familiar complaint you’ve heard throughout the years, one that you’re growing impatient with. 

“Maybe it’s because your standards are too high, and you rule out all the decent ones.” 

He reacts with expected scorn, sneering at his shot glass – “I’d jump at a chance for a date with someone decent, but I don’t know a single ‘un”. 

“Don’t you?” You bristle at the slight to your gender. “Miya Atsumu, you’re exaggerating as usual.”

“Fine – name me a single decent person willing to date me then.” 

You stare at him. You consider throwing your unfinished sake at him, screaming that for god’s sake you’ve been in love with him ever since you were fifteen and he finally outgrew his childhood habit of trying to gross you out by showing you the frogs he catches on rainy days. 

But you don’t. 

It’s not his fault you’re a coward for not admitting that you’re tempted to kiss him on the lips every time he swings you into his arms when he wins a match. It’s not his fault you’re a coward for not admitting that you’ve cried yourself to sleep when you heard he got a girlfriend for the first time. 

No. 

The fault is all yours.

And it’s your choice if you want to communicate like a damn adult. Even if you still feel like a teenager with a crush every time he crosses your path. 

You take another swig of sake, inviting liquid courage to flood your veins. 

“What about me?” 

His head swivels around to look at you almost comically. 

“You?” 

You’re tempted to back paddle into a joke, reassume the status quo. But you gather the scraps of your courage to step out of the dark, to offer him with open palms your bare, beating heart.

“Yes, me.” You say, looking him straight in the eye. “I think I’m a decent person. And I’d date you.”   

The look of confusion on his face is a knife to your chest. You get off the swing, ready to retreat to your childhood bedroom to mourn your embarrassment and heartbreak by your longtime crush. 

With a setter’s reflexes, Miya Atsumu catches your elbow before you slip out of his grasp.

“Yer not joking, are ya? Cos if ya are, it’d be a pretty shitty joke.” 

You shake your head, too tired to yank the knife buried in your chest yourself. “Why would I joke about this?” 

He trips over his words in his haste to respond. “C-cos I’d never imagine yer wanna date me in a million years – ya always got so angry with me when we were kids-”

“That’s cos you were a little shit and tried pranking me all the damn time”, you reply. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. G'dnight, Atsumu.”

“Wait!” This time he trips over his feet, falls headfirst into a pool of golden streetlight. “I haven’t given you my answer yet!”

 “What?” You bite out, resorting to hostility to mask your open wound. 

His smile is genuine, a little shy. 

“If yer crazy enough to have me, I’d leap at the chance.” 

You’re not sure about the sequence of events that follow next. 

The only thing you know for sure is that he steals your absolution for being careless with your heart by crashing his lips onto yours, like a tidal wave breaking onto shore. And you let your very breath be stolen from your lungs by the golden boy you’ve loved all this while.

songs i associate the truly devious squad with:

david eastman king

He said screw it

There's a big crowd looking

I'ma scream when no one, when no one, when no one's around

i hc our resident irritating(ly handsome) daddy issues boy to be an ajr fan because if you tell me you can’t see him with humpty dumpty by ajr on loop while he pours over speeches or campaign stuff (so knowledgeable i know) in his dingy little motel room that he picked and paid for himself (proudly) tapping his (incredibly long and slender !!) fingers on the brown and slightly stained desk (better not to think into that) and smiling at the line about weird friends and stilling his fingers when some random pattern of notes strung together or some verse of the song reminds him of stevie and smiling a embarrassing boyish happy grin because he’s alone and the smirks are reserved for stevie? you’re lying.

also because it feeds the robin hood type rebel (i’ll explain later) inside of him i mean have you heard the song it makes me want to skateboard around the city and spray peace and love sayings on the subway stations because it’s got that badum badum you’re a bad boy but also badam badam you’re only being a bad boy to your very bad daddy so you’re actually just a good boy with a bad boy attitude that also makes your very intelligent and slightly murder obsessed crush blush

nate fisher

But I don't need comfort

I don't want to talk

So could you tell me that it's over

Tell me that it's over

i’m thinking the wallows for our true watson and he might not even connect or relate to the lyrics but i think he likes the tune and this song especially because sometimes that’s him and he just wants to be alone and don’t get me wrong he loves stevie and janelle and david  but sometimes the stress of his stupid stupid book and everything just gets to him more than he jokes about it and he’ll just sit in his room and have this on and just kinda (aggressively and satisfyingly) close all his tabs and push the book away and just sit on the rug with his head against the mattesss with one of those nifty heating by oxidizing iron inside of the pocket eye patches that smell like soft citrus and happiness(don’t laugh i love them and you all need to get them now) that janelle insisted on him having (after vi bought a 500 pack off of amazon that he scoffed at but now secretly by from vi who happily supplies him with it since it gives them an excuse to buy more) and stretches his fingers out after a long day of not typing and tries to pretend he’s not thinking of mudge

stevie bell

But we might just get away with it

Religion's in your lips

Even if it's a false god

We'd still worship

our loveable murder muffin i believe is either a swiftie or a rock lover but since i don’t listen to rock (don’t start) and the depressingly small truly devious community is mostly caffeinated swifties i’ve hced stevie with the song false god 

i also think this song reminds her of meeting david and their rocky (to say the least) journey to being more than friends (thanks maureen it was a ship we needed) which always makes her blush every time especially when she remembers their first kiss and in her words all that rolling and also it just relaxes her because sometimes she’ll get too riled up to sleep when she’s listening to her true crime podcasts and solving them before the narrator does so she kinda just has this on loop to drift off because overall it’s got a nice background music quality to it and we all know how stevie’s brains gotta have center stage when she’s solving all her lovely who dunnit mysteries

an added bonus slash thingamajigger that the (very prominent) background saxophone reminds her of ellie and even though it’s a painful memory it helps her remember her friends and remind herself she’s not alone and she is loved and sometimes sometimes she’ll take ellie’s advice given on one of those champagne filled (ellie) nights and just imagine she’s strolling down a street in paris (the capital of crime and death) with david in a crewneck holding her hand and sharing an earbud with her while she pretends not to blush and he pretends not to notice

janelle franklin 

Crawlin’ back to you

Ever thought of callin’ when

You’ve had a few?

’Cause I always do

the one that all of us are lowkey or highkey like me jealous of because how come she has a hobby that she’s devoted to and good at and an s/o and she looks good and is organized and good with kids. how come??

moving on

in my mind she likes arctic monkeys because the beat and the stuff of the song (you understand) just reminds me of her hammering it up in minerva’s brand new workshop with it pulsing in her ears to the beat of the buzz of the machine and her getting a little lost in the lyrics every now and then when she’s really missing vi

also 100% sure she is obsessed with miley cyrus’s version of why do you only call me when you’re high 

also because i feel like when she’s going to bed and she’s got her headphones plugged into her ears she (like stevie) uses it to help sleep and the tune is just comforting and she can kinda just close her eyes and experience the soft angst 

vi harper-tomo

Quiet is the city air on a summer night after it rains Faster than a bolt of lightning The speed of a Japanese bullet train (train) And you know, it's always trying to stay awake (stay awake)

i’m gonna have to go with lyn lapid for them because a) producer mans really got a good feminist + fuck the money sucking trying to survive girl exploiting men vibe but b) i’ve decided to go with this song because it’s really soft which i think is indie enough in my previously headcanoned indie rock vi and i also think it reminds them of janelle and how happy she makes them. and honestly i see them doing that tiktok thing inside of their head while the “if only you knew part” plays and seeing snapshots of memories with janelle flash through their head as well as their adventures in vietnam and at minerva house with janelles weird friends and i think they really do appreciate the memories and this song kind of brings them all out. i also think that this is either their ringtone or that they’ve learned to play this on an instrument (violin <3)and when they played it for janelle she cried

element “ellie” walker

I will leave you notes 

Je te laisserai des mots 

under your door 

En-dessous de ta porte 

Below the singing walls 

En-dessous de les murs qui chantent 

Close to where your feet pass 

Tout près de la place où tes pieds passent 

could never forget our ellie of course, and i know we all think know she’s a swiftie but i do think she enjoys this and not just because she’s an avid lover of french but also because she likes the lyrics and it’s one of the rare tunes that she’s learned to carry on roota and it’s one of the even rarer tunes that people don’t seem to mind her playing on roota 

i feel like it’s a good arting (shh) song for her and also she listens to it in her bathtub with a bottle of champagne in her left hand and a paintbrush in her right dabbing at the canvas she’s got set up with the bottom half of the easel in the warm pinkish water dyed with pink rose smelling bath salts david got her for her birthday

mudge

and it was not your fault but mine

but it was your heart on the line

i really fucked it up this time

didn’t i my dear?

i don’t know why mudge enjoys this song in terms of lyrics but i do see him liking the tune of it and imagining himself in disney in the 90s with this playing in the dingy cafe where he has his coffee before putting on his mickey suit, he definitely also thinks of nate and folds little paper flowers for him while listening to this song 

𝟓:𝟒𝟕 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔.

you’re not too sure what time it is, but you know it’s early when osamu lays himself over you, head digging into your chest as he steals your warmth. you groan, wrapping your arms around him as you pull the blanket higher over your bodies.

“what time is it?”

“almost six,” he hums. it’s quiet for a moment, you seem to be drifting back to sleep, and osamu grins in victory against your shirt that all’s gone according to plan as he drifts off himself.

until you speak up.

“wait a second. aren’t you supposed to be on the couch?” his body freezes for a moment before he’s clutching onto you tightly while you’re trying to shove him off. “samu! get off!”

“no!”

“i’m serious, i’m still mad at you,” you huff. he frowns (though it’s more of a pout) and simply shakes his head.

“‘m not lettin’ go. ma back hurts. i’m cold too.”

“miya osamu—”

and before you can finish your sentence, there’s a soft bite at your chin that makes you stop.

“don’t call me by ma full name,” he grumbles, settling back down into your chest. “‘s rude.” he has the audacity to grab your hand and plop it into his hair too, gesturing at you to play with the dark brown strands.

“did you just bite me?”

“and what if i did?” comes his quiet mumble, voice muffled by your shirt.

last night wasn’t exactly a big fight, it was a petty one if the both of you were being honest, but osamu should’ve admitted he was wrong, and his attitude was what landed him a spot on the couch. and to his dismay, you seem to fall asleep much easier without his embrace than he does without yours.

“what do you—you bit me,” you repeat incredulously. you smack his shoulder when he snickers quietly at your shock.

“didn’t even hurt, ya drama queen.” and you want to keep your facade of being mad, you want to tell him to go back to the couch until you’ve deemed he’s earned his spot back, but something about the way he nuzzles into you and kisses your collarbone before trying to fall asleep makes you give in.

he’s stubborn, you’ve come to know this a tad bit too well, but he’s also gentle. he plants one more spoonful of dinner to your plate when you tell him to stop, he pulls the sun visor down for you when the light shines in your face as he drives, he wakes up and puts socks on your feet when they feel like icicles against his calves, and he’s the only person who easily forgives you for your own stubbornness too—every time, without fail.

so you wrap your arm tightly around him, stroking through his locks as you mumble “you’re such a weirdo, you know that?”

“well, ‘s just the way i am, deal with it,” he mumbles back. and then you giggle, he laughs, you kiss his forehead, and he kisses your jaw—and you’re back to your usual routine, last night all forgotten.

“i love you,” you whisper.

“love ya too. and i also love yer cheeks, ‘m bitin’ them next.”

still firmly believe osamu’s love language is biting

more of ex husband gojo i beg

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 | 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

cw/ tw. modern au. their daughter is an oc, mild angst, pet names (ex. baby), more of Gojo fawning over his ex wife | wc. 600+

an. okay, this is just a blurb my sleepy brain conjured up <3

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the moms at Mio’s soccer games talk whenever he decides to pull you into his lap—a few sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your daughter run across the field.

He doesn’t hear the things they talk about, like “aren’t they divorced?” and “I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that.” Although maybe he’s heard every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do. 

“Satoru,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.”

“So? Let them stare.”

Just then, the crowd in the stands starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her smaller frame ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents. 

And then Mio kicks the ball into—well.

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter jumps happily in the middle of the field.

You’re probably scrubbing the plate in your hands rougher than necessary, doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn. But it’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those gray cotton shorts sit dangerously low on his hips— 

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless.

It's almost like it's a ploy to torture you...and it's working.

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips when he catches you staring, and suddenly the suds in the sink seem ten times more interesting.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re folding laundry. And he’s still shirtless, you realize, as he presses his front against your back.

Your resolve slips at how familiar it feels (to be held like this), and you swallow the whimper working its way up your throat. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband around your waist.

Breathless, you ask, “where’s Mio?”

“Watching Paw Patrol.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a lilted moan when he slaps your clit with his leaky tip.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open on his cock. “Tell me more about why we can’t keep doing this.” 

And you can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he wraps his long fingers around your throat because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“That’s it,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Take it.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who pushes the sticky rivulets of cum back inside you after he pulls out, muttering something that sounds like, “can’t waste it.” 

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night. 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Gojo as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, ruffling her hair until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile, content.

One of the hard parts about being a writer with a vivid imagination is that there are So Many Ideas, and they fall into so many categories, such as

Fics I want to write

Fics I want to read

There is just One Scene and I could write it but it would be waaaay more cool if I had all the build up to the scene but unfortunately. I can only figure out the Scene

I keep changing my mind. Where am I going with this

This has been done a million times before. But. Hear me out

I will 100% Never Write This. This is just my Emotional Support Idea no one can ever know about bc it makes sense only to me

Would be better as a comic...

This will be my magnum opus if I can just get my 50 pages of ideas into a coherent narrative

All I have are vibes

And, of course

WIP I started and haven't updated in 2 years and oh god its beEN TWO YEARS???

after the many, many years of being bakugou’s friend, kirishima could say he has never seen his best bud so in love with someone before—so deeply and irrevocably smitten with you.

it was the little things, mostly, that piled up and up until it was so blatantly obvious that bakugou had fallen—and he had fallen hard. making you bentos, hanging around your desk, walking you home… he’d never behaved like this with anyone before, kirishima mused. it was jarring, in a way. but kirishima was happy for his friend, and he couldn’t help but to keep an eye on the two of you whenever he was in the vicinity (whether bakugou knew he was there or not).

lovestruck, was the word that came to kirishima’s bewildered mind the first time he saw bakugou trailing after you. following you like this great shadow around the agency. he never seemed to leave you alone for too long and he’d always have this little pout on his face whenever you’d shoo him away so you could do your own work. kirishima didn’t think bakugou even knew about the extent of his own feelings—not at first, anyways. and when he tried to confront the blond, he’d act all gruff and grouchy, his ears tinted a violent pink.

bakugou could deny it all he wanted, though. kirishima saw right through him.

what really cemented everything for kirishima—really hammered it in that his best friend was finally getting some of the happiness he deserved—was the time bakugou had caught you from falling off a ladder.

you’d been trying to hang up some decorations around the agency—to “brighten things up a bit” you’d said. kirishima had been too far away at the time—but he still saw the moment you’d leaned just a bit too far to the right. the moment your foot had slipped and you’d tumbled off that tall ladder with a small yelp.

bakugou had been exiting his office at that precise moment. and kirishima swore he had never seen his friend run so fucking fast before in his life. a small explosion propelled him forward—charring the wood and frame of his office door. just so he could catch you before you cracked your head open on the floor.

kirishima watched—from his position across the agency, his legs tensed—as bakugou held you tight within his arms and looked down at your shaken form. he watched as bakugou played off his breathlessness as though he hadn’t just dead sprinted across the hall to get to you on time. you wouldn’t ever know, kirishima thought to himself, how desperate bakugou would have to be to move that fast. and kirishima finally relaxed his stance once he saw bakugou set you carefully down on the ground, hovering over you as he scolded you for being so inattentive. you only rubbed the back of your head as you smiled sheepishly up at him. if bakugou hadn’t been smitten before, he certainly was now.

kirishima couldn’t have been happier, really. and he found himself quietly slipping away, a smile on his face at the idea of bakugou finally, finally being in love.

omfg yes yes and yes and also he pretends not to be sad realllyyyy really hard but sometimes its just too much and when yall first moved in together (!!) and he was crying in the bathroom hiding you went in and kissed his forehead (gojo melt moment) and held him and sat on the cold tile cradling his head and didnt say anything sarcastic or stupid or anything actually and just sat w him until he started talking to you abt his feelings

AND he was so embarrassed afterwards he tried to make it up to you and apologize for wasting your time and you smacked him in the face (!!!!) and scolded him for thinking that way and he felt SO LOVED 🥰

i feel like gojo would be in a ‘hot chocolate x green tea’ relationship.. his partner is very funny but more of the sarcastic humor and he pretends to be offended but he never actually is. his partner is his sense and is the person who tells him to stop eating so many sweets and maybe get in some protein, makes sure that he sleeps well and tells him not to take missions when he’s sleepy. and when they do all this he wants to cry because he never got that time when he was babies becs he had to grow up so quickly. his partner his this older , mature energy about them and it makes him feel so different- not like he has to impress anyone or have anybody’s back. because hes finally being taken care of with no strings attached, and it feels so good to him. OH LETS NOT FORGET HOW HE WILL BE THE KINDEST PERSON EVEN TO HIS PARTNER!! because they’ve done all this for him and he wants to now buy you the entire earth or say the most disgustingly kind things to you.

like if you so much as tell him to have a good day , to be careful and that you love him he stops dead in his tracks and goes. , “thank you !! i love you more!! you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!! byebye yn!!” while he’s walking out , and his voice is getting farther and farther but he’s also getting louder because you MUST know how special you are. the good you’ve done. how much of a good person you are. you HAVE TO. and don’t get me started when you’re sad. because when he’s sad he doesn’t know how to express it properly so he makes these atrocious jokes that leave you so concerned, but you still comfort him anyway, and he loves you so much for it. so he’ll hug you a tight but doesn’t know what to say at all😭. so he’s holding you and rocking you side to side and just saying , “i’m here, it’s alright, i’m right here,” because that’s all he really knows how to do but he PRAYS that it’s enough for you because he will literally wither away if it isn’t. gojo n his more emotionally smart, mature but still chaotic partner </33

aND LASTLY. everyone hates when you two are together because it’s so chaotic , you can’t even get out a sentence because every word you seem to say has some kind of dumb ass inside joke or something. like you once read a book that mentioned a baseball bat being heavy and he was so distraught . he kept going ,” heavy????? 😏 baseball bat???????? 😏” and now whenever anyone brings it up or it’s on tv you both topple over laughing. megumi is done cus he thought you were supposed to be the mature one 😕😕😕💔💔

making my humidifier and dehumidifier participate in a cruel and pointless war

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐲?"

⤷ atsumu x reader | mutual pining | 0.9k words |

“Atsumu!” You call out his name, hitting your fist against the door. “Are you here?” 

It's a little late; the hallway is brightly lit, and you look up at the overhead lights, blinking and wondering if you shouldn’t have come here on such a whim. Thinking about it, you probably should have at least texted him you were coming — he might not even be here, but you were too much in a rush. 

Sighing, you raise your fist again, “Atsu-”

The door flies open and your hand cuts through air instead of the solid surface. Standing there in the doorway is Atsumu, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a loosely fitting black t-shirt to match. He’s holding onto the handle with one hand, the other resting against the side of the frame, his pink lips stretching into a sly smile. Your stomach flips a little bit. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You wring your hands together, “Um.” 

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue and chuckling when you don’t. He opens the door wider. “C’mon,” he says, motioning his head inside his room. You stare at his back as you follow him in, taking in his broad shoulders and admiring the way his muscles ripple inside his shirt before closing your eyes and shaking your head. He’s not yours to look at. 

Focusing instead on the room, you take note of how both sides are equally as dysfunctional. Not messy, just…crowded. “Where’s Osamu?” 

He settles onto his bed, unmade, legs spread, and pushes his laptop to the side. “With Rin.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

You rock on your heels as your gaze slides all around the room, purposely avoiding his. “So…” 

“So?” He tilts his head in that cute way he always does when he finally catches your eye, smiling teasingly. “I’m not complainin’ about ya bein’ here, but you look like you have something ya wanna say.” 

He’s right. A wave of fervor pours over you, and you nod your head in determination to do what you came here for, pushing the creeping feeling of dejection far from your mind. “I need some answers.”

“Uh, huh.” His mouth twists in confusion. “Ta what, exactly?” 

“To how long it’s going to be.” Your legs take you around the small space, pacing back and forth as you clench and unclench your fists.

“Right…” He trails off. “I’m a little lost here, sweetheart.” 

You think you might melt with the affectionate name, but you brush over it. He’s just like that. “How long it’s going to be until you ask out this person you like so much.” 

He suddenly tenses, back straightening and thick eyebrows furrowing. “Oh.” Brown eyes track your movement. “I’m not, uh, sure I can answer that?” 

You shake your head. You think back to the conversation you guys had a few days ago, where he told you all about this person that he’s interested in. You remember him using words like so pretty, so amazing. A flush on his cheeks as he told you about why he likes them so much. Refusing to tell you who the person was, so maybe you could try to understand why it wasn’t you. 

But it’s exactly that, it’s not you. But it hurts every single time you think about it. 

So that’s why you ended up here, late at night, a fire in your heart. If the person Atsumu likes isn’t you, you could at least push him to go out with them. You wouldn’t be left to hopelessly pine over him, and could instead get over it as you watched him with someone else, even if it would kill you. Save yourself before you get too invested, right? 

“Why not? The sooner the better. Aren’t you the one who told me that we have to go for the things we want?” 

Atsumu pushes himself off the bed, long legs striding to you and big hands holding your arms to stop you from moving around. He looks very confused now. “I was?” 

You ignore him. “Well then, it’s time to do something.” You make sure to look right into his eyes. “If you like them so much, there’s only one thing to do.” 

The grip on your arms tighten, and you shift your hands up to hold on to his elbows. His eyes widen, and you watch as different emotions pass through his face before an excited grin grows. He studies you, “How long have ya felt this way?”

“Since you told me.” You try to match his smile, despite the way your chest sinks. “Be brave, Atsumu. I know you are.”

“Yeah.” he nods, eagerly, bleached hair following the jerks of his head. “Yeah, okay.” 

Your gaze drops to the floor. “Great…” Great. 

At least one of you guys will get to be with who they want to. You just wish he wanted you.

You try to leave his hold, but his hands just squeeze your arms, your name falling from his lips in a soft breath. 

He gives you that smile, not the confident volleyball player one, but the one that you catch him with when he’s petting a puppy, or when he’s talking to his mother on the phone and he thinks no one is looking. The one that’s reserved for soft moments, and your heart constricts. But it’s not prepared for what comes out of his mouth next. 

“Will ya go out with me?”