this npc is on a quest

—call me: charms | 20’s | S.E.A | She/They

—wrote for: jjk, hq, bnha, transformers

—i just wanna write again. Request are open. Current request: 0

yes. that naoya. the man who thinks women should be three steps behind a man.

the guy who only values women for their bodies, objectifying his own blood in the process, shunning them for being too much.

the guy who— you get the idea.

but never. and i mean NEVER tell another soul that he’s on his knees trying to please a woman— a lowly servant.

you were brought up to serve him. you were born to obey his needs and desires, but it turned the other way and he’s at your beck and call.

he adjusts himself at the shift at your tone. he will be filling your room with the most expensive brands —clothes, jewelry, flowers— anything to have you speak in the soft voice that you always do.

he had built you a garden of tulips in front of your bedroom window when you mentioned it to him. it was a playful comment when you mentioned you wanted to go to netherlands for the famous tulip fields as a tv commercial came on.

actually, just for that, clear your schedule. he’s already booking your flight, hotel, dinner date at a moments notice.

all of it happens behinds closed doors of course. this side of him is for your eyes only. so be a good girl and try to love him with an open heart and open arms.

synopsis: just another Inarizaki Amnesia AU.

info: 1.3 K fic | hurt/ comfort | Amnesia AU | Fluff

Atsumu was a mess.

He ignored the complaints from the Japan Volleyball Association, shut down the concerned messages from his teammates, and he muted the worried calls from his brother. He forgot the world and everything around him. It wasn't easy to cut ties with everything he holds dearly, yet he'd do it over, and over again if it meant bringing you back.

From that point of blurred lines of passing days, his schedule was booked with maintenance to take care of you. Each day you were reminded of who you once were—the articles, the photos, the touches, and the fragrance—but it was meaningless if you still couldn't recall. He wasn't familiar with the concept of healing, and even more so with people that can never be put back together again.

The truth was an utterly bitter pill to swallow. He was a man too immersed in the now, and by forcing himself on the trinkets of the past, he could never move on with his future. This was why, with the most sincere intention, you had to break his heart, in a suicidal attempt to heal him back into the world.

"Thank you, Atsumu, for showing me what it was like being loved," you cradled his face with a gentle warmth from your palms. He snuggled into your touches, basking in this moment of togetherness, afraid that it felt like it would be the last time. " but the person you love isn't me. At least I couldn't be her again. "

"It's fine!" he declared. "As long as you—"

As he leaned towards you, you pressed his checks together, silencing him. In a tired voice you said, "No, it is not. Listen to me when I say it's not healthy for you to keep pushing the memories of your past with a mistake, Atsumu."

Mistake? Was that how you felt being with him?

"I've heard you've been skipping practices just to keep watching over me. Don't you think that your passion for volleyball is more important?" You pinched his cheeks, pulling him down to your shoulders and holding him so he wouldn't see the tears. "You've sacrificed yourself so much for it, and I'd hate to see you lose a part of yourself just for me."

"I don't care what happens. You're more important than me. So please, don't go! I don't know how I'd live without you," he returned the embrace. He didn't have to look when he remembered the way your chest heaved as you held back the tears. At this moment, he recalled your first cry for comfort. It was when you held him after he was away from training. He was only away for six months, but you bawled as if he wouldn’t return for five years.

He remembered the patterns of your labored breath, and he was familiar with the way you trembled in fear— afraid that he'll disappear again. He had it all ingrained in his mind, like a repetitive rerun of his memories recorded in a tape, but if only he could make you do the same.

Atsumu held you closer, "I don't want to lose you. I wouldn't want to wake up to a morning where I can’t see your face. I don't want to eat breakfast when you're not the one making it. I don't want to do a single serve if you're not there to cheer me on. I don't wanna—"

"Hush now, don't go drabbling out sentiments," you closed his lips shut with your pointing finger. "You are like a Koala, you know? Have you always been this grabby?"

He doesn't retort, but instead, he wrapped around your wrist in a soft yet firm hold. His rough lips adored your skin with a continuous onset of kisses, up until he cradled your open palm with similar affection.

You pulled away from him, still wary when his fingers tugged you to stay a tad longer by his side, still not convinced to let you go. "You could still eat breakfast without me, you could still do anything without me. You're a grown man, Atsumu, a volleyball star loved by Japan! You don't need me there when the whole world is cheering."

"But I don't want the world," he confessed, the deep grumble of his tone had cracked. He was desperate to make you stay."I want you, nobody else."

"But I'm not her anymore..." you gave him your brightest smile. "The moment I woke up in the hospital room, the moment you saw me in the white gown, I was—" you pulled your lips wider, forcing a steady gleam."—I am not her. At least, not anymore. I can’t even remember new stuff like I did before. Don’t you think it's better to forget about me, Atsumu?"

“I will never be better without you,” he knelt on the floor as he cradled your middle in an embrace, “You think you might not be the same person I loved since you forgot almost five years of your life but don’t you know I loved you even before that?”

You smiled sadly, “Even when I was a messy high school student?”

“Even when you had pimples all over your face and when you kept being a bitch with your hormonal mood swings.”

“That’s a rude thing to say.”

“It was so damn annoying,” he snuggled further into you as he felt your palms over his hair in affectionate head pats. Damn, he missed those. “But not knowing whether you were fine bothered me even more. I always went to your classroom before practice to see you if you were fine.”

“So all those times when you kept staring at me like some Asian mom checking up on her studying kids, It was because you cared?”

“Yup! It was stupid, wasn’t it? I didn’t even know I loved you until…”

“Until what Atsumu?” you stopped your gestures. You wanted to know what kept him from speaking any further.

Atsumu reached out to the palm over his head. He intertwined your finger with his as a way to seek comfort for the next line he was going to say. It was funny to think that after three years of marriage, he still had some things to make him flustered around like a schoolboy. But it was you. And flustering for you made him realize he never grew out of that phase.

“I… Honestly? I always felt this way towards you—Calm, secure, happy. Sure I felt all the butterflies and sparks like the ones they had in rom-com movies, but all those feelings were just a bonus,” he looked up at you in adoration (because what else is there if not complete devotion?), “I think I was made to love you and it comes to me so naturally. In short, I loved you before I even knew what love is.”

Atsumu saw the tears threatening to fall. He knew of your insecurities too and loved that side of you either way. You believe you don’t deserve to be with him. You believed you don’t deserve any form of happiness; maybe that’s why he was here. You weren’t used to kindness. You weren’t used to it being returned. Despite all the self-hate, he'll have the patience so you can unlearn all the cruel things you were taught about.

“Even when I don't remember our marriage?”

“Then we can have the ceremony again.”

You laughed, but tears cascaded down your cheeks. He hoped it was tears of joy.

“Even when I’m difficult, Atsumu?”

“Difficulty? That’s what you’re worried about? You know I never give up so easily. I’m a professional athlete; I literally bleed, sweat, and cry to be paid,” he joked. And it looked like it was effective after seeing the smile gracing him. He missed your heartfelt smiles. “I’ll take care of you.”

Now, it was your turn to reach out to him. You caressed his cheeks, wiping away his tears. Yet he doesn’t miss the melancholy in your gaze. “It will be rotten work.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” he vowed, holding the hand which smothered him with quaint affection, “I will do my best to make you feel in a way that you deserve.”

When he had gotten you to agree, he finally settled the final kiss over the silver band decorating your ring finger.

Thank you for reading!