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The Time of your Life pt. 3 (Atsumu x f!reader)

Link to pt. 1

words ⋟ 18.5k

rating ⋟ E (18+, minors DNI)

tags ⋟ multipov; post timeskip/aged up characters, romance, fluff; smut, mentions of alcohol, we like’em a bit dense, confession, comedy

a/n ⋟ Should I divide this in parts to help with readability? Let me know!

a/n ⋟ Hey! It’s been a while! (*laughs in pain). It only took me 4 years, but I’m finally back with the third and final part of this story c: I’m sure that the few who read the first two parts have already forgotten everything about it and I apologise, especially to that kind person who commented that they would have liked to see how Atsumu & the reader’s relationship would evolve. But better late than never, right? Right?? Anyhoo, if anyone ends up reading this, I hope you enjoy it. Despite all the writer’s blocks and difficulties due to my brain not. fucking. working. I had lots of fun writing this and if I can share even 1% of it, I can consider myself happy.

The horror story in the fic is inspired by this traditional tale: https://journal.rikumo.com/journal/2016/10/27/rikumo-folktale-the-faceless-woman

Banners are from Unsplash

Masterlist

1. Monkeys and pillows (You)

You wake up while dreaming of six monkeys sitting on your chest.

“Hmm… so heavy…” you murmur, slowly opening your eyes. Light floods the room, bathing the volleyball posters, reflecting off the bright white walls, and spreading across the blanket covering your body.

You hear the sound of breathing, a slightly ragged sound that definitely doesn’t belong to you. Looking down, you realise that the weight you’ve been feeling is Atsumu’s arm and leg wrapped tightly around you.

When the body pillow is an actual body.

You observe his face. He’s sleeping soundly, his forehead smooth above his thick brows, his jaw relaxed, leaving just the smallest gap between his lips. Your eyes drop to his chest, rising and falling in steady waves.

You don’t know how long you lie there, basking in his warmth, but eventually, begrudgingly, your reverie is disrupted by the unreasonable requests of your bladder. You roll your eyes. Just a little.

Carefully, you try to free yourself from Atsumu’s grip without waking him, your arm sliding up as you wiggle your legs, but your attempt fails, and he stirs under the covers, opening his eyes with a low groan.

“Oh, g’morning,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse, rumbling from deep in his chest. He shifts his leg away as he readjusts, but his arm remains, squeezing you a little tighter.

“Good morning,” you reply, suddenly feeling your whole body go stiff. Memories of last night flash through your mind and heat rushes to your face. The situation is way too awkward. “Can I use the shower?” you ask hastily.

Atsumu blinks a couple of times. “Sure.” Despite his agreement, he doesn’t move.

“I need you to…” You explain the rest with a glance at his arm, holding your breath as you wait for him to release you.

“Huh?” He follows your gaze. “Oh!” He looks just as surprised as you before finally moving aside, accidentally bringing the covers with him.

His eyes flicker toward you — just underwear — before he quickly sits up, suddenly wide awake. “I’ll lend you some clothes.” His voice is casual, but you can feel the heat lingering where his gaze trailed.

As he gets up, it’s your own gaze that betrays you, flickering to his half-naked form. A pair of boxers is all that covers his absolutely and unfairly god-like body. Then, your eyes drop to yourself, and finally to your dress lying forgotten on the floor.

“Thanks,” you hardly manage to say as your brain short-circuits.

Atsumu starts rummaging through his wardrobe, packed with hoodies, tracksuit trousers, and shorts, but also elegant shirts, jackets, and jeans. “No problem,” he says as he opens a drawer, clearly struggling to find whatever it is he’s looking for.

At last, he emerges with a plain black T-shirt and a pair of black tracksuit trousers with neon green accents. As he hands them to you, you get up, flashing him a small smile before tiptoeing to the bathroom opposite his room, quickly disappearing behind the door.

2. Cakes and misunderstandings (Atsumu)

An hour later, breakfast arrives scattered in several carefully packaged boxes that Atsumu spreads all over the kitchen table. He’s sure you’re going to love it — he’s picked out all kinds of cakes for you to try.

When you sit at the table, you choose the chair directly across from him, and while he dislikes the fact that you’ve put an entire table between the two of you, he’s glad he has the excuse to get a good look at you. Even though the clothes he gave you were the oldest ones he could find — worn briefly in high school before he outgrew them — you still look somewhat small in them. The seams of the sleeves fall far past your shoulders, and he noticed when you stepped into the kitchen how the ends of his trousers pooled at your feet. He won’t lie, seeing you in his clothes is kinda hot.

He’s just about to make a comment, something that would probably make your cheeks flush a little, when you speak up.

“So…” You steal a glance at him before dropping your gaze to the shortcake on your plate, your fork gently prodding at it. “What are your… plans?”

Atsumu, having just stuffed an entire pancake into his mouth, chews quickly and swallows before replying. “I’m going to hit the gym,” he says, already running through the exercises he needs to do. Today’s leg day. You never skip leg day. He grins, patting his thighs. “Gotta keep these beauties in shape.”

He was expecting a smile or maybe a chuckle from you, but your expression remains serious. Did he say something wrong?

“I see,” you finally reply, your gaze slipping away from his once again.

Breakfast is… awkward, to say the least. You make small talk, but it’s stiff, and as soon as you finish eating — after he refuses to let you help with the clean-up — you’re quick to stand up, grab your things, and head for the door.

He offers to give you a lift back to your dorm, but you decline, insisting it’s not necessary. Something about the way you leave feels off. You were polite, too polite, and you seemed… distant. Atsumu gets a strange feeling in his stomach, but he wouldn’t know how to describe it. Maybe it’s just the food sitting weird.

3. Spatulas with a dash of counsel (You)

“Okay, so, to sum it up: you’re telling me that you had your first one-night stand, it went great, but now you think you’ve caught feelings for the guy?” The sceptical voice on the other end of the phone belongs to your friend Mao, also known as the Great Saintess of Patience and Support. Her tone is warm, if a bit sceptical.

“I know it’s stupid…” Sitting in your desk chair, you fight the growing temptation to forget everything and wrap yourself up like a human burrito under the comfy aquamarine blanket that’s lying on your bed.

“No, it’s not stupid, just…” You hear a familiar series of thuds and knocks in the background — Mao must be cooking. “What’s so special about him? It’s not like you to fall this quickly.”

“Oh… I don’t know… He’s really fun. Somewhat sweet despite the rough edges. He’s really handsome, but that’s not the point… And…” You stare into the void as images of last night flash through your mind again. Heat rises to your face. You’re really glad your roommate isn’t there to witness it. “He’s quite… uninhibited?” You practically choke on the last word, and Mao bursts into laughter on the other end of the line.

“I see. Well, I’m happy for you,” she says with a residual giggle. “But then, what’s the problem?” Another thump, this time louder, makes you wince, and you pull the phone away for a moment.

“Well, I tried asking him what his intentions were, and he said he had to go to the gym.” A distinct lack of enthusiasm colours your voice.

After that, a snort echoes through the phone. “Sorry. It’s just—” Mao takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “Couldn’t you have clarified that you meant ‘plans regarding me’ rather than his schedule for the day?”

“No way! I was so embarrassed already!” You say, kicking your feet in the air to try to get rid of some of your nervous energy.

“But why?” Your friend asks.

I just want to be a warm, cosy burrito. “It’s just confusing… For a one-night stand, it felt impossibly close to dating.” You sigh. “I know I don’t have any experience with this stuff, but I never imagined this kind of situation would feel so…” You trail off, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“So?” Mao’s curiosity practically seeps through the phone.

“Intimate,” you finally say.

“Ah, I see.” Mao’s tone softens, and a faint noise comes through the phone. She’s probably chewing on her spatula again — she has a habit of nibbling on things when she’s deep in thought.

“I should let you get back to what you’re doing,” you say with a sigh.

“Oh, don’t sound so gloomy! Just find an excuse to talk to him again and see how it goes.”

You thank your friend, promising to buy her lunch next week, then hang up, mulling over her words.

“Well,” you mutter to yourself, “I guess I should give his clothes back at some point.”

Once the call is over, the room fills with silence, except for a quiet sniff of contemplation.

4. The wiser twin (Osamu)

“You didn’t even cook breakfast for her?” Osamu glares at his twin, his lips pulling into a deep frown.

“Uh?! You know I don’t cook.” Atsumu’s eyebrows knit into a tight scowl.

Osamu sighs, shaking his head as he starts tidying up the mess Atsumu, predictably, left behind. “And then people ask me why you don’t have a girlfriend…” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” Atsumu grumbles, finally grabbing a few paper plates and tossing them into the bin.

“Nothin’.” Osamu wipes down the glassy surface of the table but freezes when he hears Atsumu mumble, ‘Should I have made her breakfast…?’. He turns, fixing a sharp look on his brother. “Are you sure you don’t want to date this girl?”

“What? You know I don’t do dating.” Atsumu scowls as if the mere suggestion offends him.

Osamu exhales heavily, and Atsumu’s expression twists into a really, really ugly one.

“Don’t sigh at me like that!” he snaps.

“Then why are we even talking about this?” Osamu rolls his eyes and starts washing the cutlery.

“I don’t know,” Atsumu mutters, fiddling with the empty takeout box.

Osamu sighs again, summoning the last of his patience. “Because you’re worried she might hate you now, aren’t you?”

“Huh? No.” The scowl flickers back onto Atsumu’s face. “It’s just…” he shrugs, “it felt like she was running away from me.”

“So you did do something bad.”

Atsumu shakes his head. “No…?”

“Did you make it clear that it was just a hook-up?”

“I did.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

At this, Atsumu averts his gaze, suddenly finding an exaggerated amount of interest in the kitchen bin. “I might have… got a bit carried away.”

Osamu’s eyes narrow. “Is she the girl who couldn’t open the beer keg?”

“What? No! How did you—?” Atsumu’s confusion is so comically genuine that Osamu has to fight the urge to tease him until he storms off cursing. Something tells him that if he doesn’t give his twin a push now, this tiresome conversation will have been all but pointless.

“Akaashi told me. You invited her to dinner, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” Atsumu blinks, and Osamu can practically hear the gears running behind his twin’s eyes. “Oh… Fucking Bokkun and his big mouth.”

“That might have been a bit much for a hook-up.”

To that, Atsumu doesn’t respond.

Osamu sets the cutlery aside and turns to face his brother. “Okay, let’s focus for a moment. You say you don’t do dating.”

“Exactly.”

“And that you’re not actually interested in her.”

“Y-yeah.”

There it is: hesitation.

“So why didn’t you just invite her to your dorm room or something? Why go to a restaurant first? Why bring her here, of all places?”

“I don’t know…”

Osamu pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting ridiculous.

“Hey! It just… I don’t know, felt right, okay?”

Sometimes, Osamu wonders how he and Atsumu are even related. His brother is so. dense.

Osamu wipes his hands on a towel and leans back against the counter. “Y’know… if you’re so worried about it, you could always text her. I assume you have her number.”

Atsumu scoffs. “Yeah, but no. What would I even say?”

Osamu sighs. “That’s your problem to figure out. You’ve been moping around the kitchen for half an hour, ‘Tsumu. If it’s just a hook-up, why do you care what she thinks?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks so lost it’s almost comical.

Osamu shakes his head, tossing the towel onto the counter. “You’re hopeless.”

“Oi!” Atsumu bristles, but his anger fades quickly, replaced by something that looks like confusion.

Osamu smirks. “Alright, my job here is done. Figure out the rest of your love sickness on your own and leave me alone.” With that, he strides out of the kitchen, leaving Atsumu standing there, frozen like a raccoon that was just caught stealing fried chicken from the trash.

5. Lifting the weight (Atsumu)

If there’s one thing that’s sure to clear Atsumu’s mind, it’s lifting weights. He’s always liked training: gaining control over your body, pushing it to the limit, seeing the results on the court and out. And that’s why he’s at the gym, warming up with a light jog before moving over to the other machines.

Training clears his head. That’s the rule. That’s how it’s always been. So why is he still thinking about you?!

His movements are mechanical as he heads to the bench press, briefly using the bottom of his white T-shirt to dry his face.

I’m not hopeless.

Atsumu launches into a mental fight with his brother, seething through a clenched jaw. He’s clever, hot, and determined af. How could he possibly be hopeless?

“Good morning!”

Saying hello is one of Atsumu’s closest friends, Aran. He’s also his gym buddy.

“Hey!” The familiar face cheers Atsumu up a little, helping him leave his inner quarrel behind and finally return to planet Earth. “Help me do some reps?”

“Sure,” Aran replies, his customary smile a comforting sight.

“Have you watched the last episode of Robot Wars? Dead Metal was on fire!” asks Aran, his smile that of a kid who just discovered dinosaurs.

“Good, he’s one of my favourites,” Atsumu replies distractedly.

“No, I meant he was literally on fire.”

“What?”

A couple of people turn, and Atsumu realises he has maybe raised his voice a bit too much. Aran laughs, leaving Atsumu without an explanation. Then he grabs his towel and quickly checks his phone while Atsumu begins his warm-up set.

He makes sure to perform each movement with precise form: elbows slightly tucked, wrists straight, and a controlled rhythm.

Once he’s done, it’s time for the real thing. He plants his feet firmly on the black rubber tiles of the gym’s floor and grips the bar, which Aran has made heavier as per instructions.

Breathe in… Lower... Push… Breathe Out. One.

Breathe in... Lower… Push... Breathe Out. Two…

“Woah, you’re going all out today.” Aran follows his movements with caring focus, just like he did back in high school. Atsumu couldn’t ask for a better training partner.

Each rep feels heavier, but he pushes through, just like he always does, until the set is finally complete. He then exhales sharply while Aran helps him rack the bar.

“Good job,” Aran says, but Atsumu responds with a big sigh.

“Something on your mind?” Aran asks as they switch positions. His voice is calm, reassuring.

“Nah. All good.” Atsumu waits for Aran to warm up, then positions himself behind him for support. His hands are ready, part of his brain is also ready, careful to follow his partner’s movements, but there’s another part of his stupid, wet thinking mass that’s annoyingly lingering somewhere else.

Love Sickness. Those were Osamu’s words.

Does he really like you? Sure, you’re cute, with your timid smiles and carefree grins. A bit awkward, too, but Atsumu can’t bring himself to dislike that, especially since it makes you endlessly funny to tease. In fact, you’re probably one of the most expressive people he’s ever met — and he’s quite sure he’s just scratched the surface.

He finds himself thinking that you’re also pretty, remembering the way you glanced at him during adult Jenga, or when you lay bare on his dorm’s bed. You are, in fact, unexpectedly hot.

Atsumu is so lost in his thoughts that he almost misses the moment Aran finishes his set, shiny sweat collecting at his temples.

Ffffffuck.

The next time he sees that devil of a twin, he’s putting him in a chokehold. This is all his fault, planting weird ideas in his head.

Atsumu finishes his training session long after Aran, sweaty and tired, but somehow still annoyingly restless. After downing nearly the entire bottle of his electrolyte drink — the plastic creaking as if in pain — Atsumu heads to the changing rooms for a much-needed shower.

It must be a lull period because the rectangular room is completely empty. He takes the opportunity to blast music from his phone at full volume as he undresses. Singing to himself, he struts butt-naked to the showers.

“I’m a pop, pop, pop, take a shot, yeah~”

Turning the water scalding hot, Atsumu lets it rush from the top of his head down to his feet, watching the droplets stream down his hair. Steam quickly gathers at the bottom of the stall.

“Filling up my truck, yeah, you want that ride~”

He’s just started soaping up when memories of last night sneak on him. You, straddling him on his bed… And not that wreck of his dorm bed — his real, I-grew-up-in-this bed. Your voice trembling against his ear... Your gaze locking with his as you lowered yourself onto him…

Atsumu curses under his breath, trying to fight the sudden, irresistible urge to just rub a quick one out.

His hand drifts downward, sliding easily over lathered skin, until the sound of someone entering the shower stall next to him snaps him back to reality.

I need to calm the fuck down, he thinks with a frustrated smile just as his shower neighbour starts whistling. The guy is tone-deaf as hell, but, apparently, he likes Atsumu’s playlist, because, very badly but very surely, he’s whistling along with Maniac.

Atsumu spends the rest of the day lazing around in the fraternity hall, chatting idly with one member after another, unable to muster the motivation for anything productive.

He watches as Suna records a video of Hoshiumi mid-outburst, listens to Semi’s guitar practice flow through his open door, and takes a call from Oikawa, who apparently just got back from yet another trip to Argentina. Naturally, he wants to show him all the photos he took with Iwaizumi — who obviously went with him — and brag about how cool he looks in his tan.

Atsumu’s lucky it’s Sunday.

He’s just stretched — quite noisily, some might say, though he’d disagree — when he notices Kita peeking out from the corridor.

“Oh, you’re back?” the fraternity boss asks, his eyebrows barely rising as he steps into the hall.

“Kita-san, hey,” Atsumu waves sluggishly, instinctively straightening his posture a little.

“I was making the rounds to finalise the list of people joining next week’s camping trip. I need to hand it to the university representative by tomorrow morning.” Kita’s lips tighten ever so slightly. “You haven’t confirmed yet.”

He steps closer, standing in front of the couch, and, not for the first time, Atsumu wonders how someone shorter and leaner can make him feel so damn small. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“Ah, right.” Atsumu considers refusing outright, but then an idea pops into his head. “Lemme see who’s coming,” he says, reaching out as if to take the list, only to stop at the last second, opting to wait patiently instead.

Kita hands it over, his gaze even sharper than usual, but he says nothing.

Atsumu skims through the names.

“Oh.” A smile tugs at his lips as he hands the list back. “Count me in.”

6. The best spot (Shōyō)

I’m so excited!

It’s Hinata’s first time camping, and he’s itching to get to today’s destination. He’s basically bouncing off the walls. He can’t wait to set up a tent, hike through the woods, stargaze, and, most importantly, eat delicious campfire food. He made sure that there would be some veggies and fruit aside from the meat. We bought so much meat. His mouth starts watering just at the thought.

As he approaches the big bus parked near the college entrance, his eyes skim over the small crowd already gathered next to it. There are all kinds of people there. Some dressed casually, some who seem ready for a climb, some whose logic he can’t really get. Why wear loafers to go camping? Then, finally, he sees you.

“Y/n!” he calls out, cheeks rising to his eyes.

“Shōyō!” You say with a beam, and the moment he reaches you, you pull him into a tight hug. He’s always liked your hugs. They used to fluster him back in high school, but he’s got more used to them as time went on.

When you pull away, you chuckle. “I see you’re definitely ready to go,” you say, eyeing his overstuffed bags.

“Yeah! Oh, is your bag heavy? Let me take that,” he says without waiting for your reply, knowing full well you’re going to refuse, but after a bit of back and forth, you finally surrender and let him take your duffel bag with a grateful smile.

“Should we go grab some seats?” you ask.

“Yeah! Where’s Bokuto?”

“I haven’t seen him y—”

“GOOOOD MOOORNING!!!” A familiar voice cuts you off as Bokuto suddenly appears behind you, slinging an arm over your shoulders and flashing his usual shining grin at Hinata.

“Speak of the devil,” you mumble, a small chuckle tinting your voice. “Did you sleep well?”

“Absolutely,” Bokuto replies, puffing his chest. “I’m so ready for this!”

It’s not long before your bags are safely stowed in the bus’s storage compartment, and you hop on, scanning for free seats.

Hinata and Bokuto immediately start bickering over who gets to sit next to you, and Hinata smiles when he sees the way your face lights up in response. In the end, he wins, an overexcited “yes!” escaping his lips. As he takes his seat, Bokuto trudges with a pout to the one behind the two of you, his head popping up between your backrests.

“Hey, why’s Tsumtsum sitting all the way to the back?” He suddenly asks.

You all turn toward the last few rows of the bus, which are filled with equally energetic students. Well, aside from Kita-san. He looks as composed as ever. Hinata sometimes wonders what it would be like to be inside his head, but he always quickly shakes the thought away.

“He’s with his fraternity mates,” Hinata explains. “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk once we get there!” Turning back, he rummages through his backpack for some snacks — healthy ones, of course — but his movements slow when he notices the way your gaze lingers on Atsumu. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he found the two of you at the restaurant last weekend. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is he’s feeling, but he has the nagging sense that something is slipping past him.

7. The worst spot (Atsumu)

Why is she sitting so far away?!

As Suna tries to show him some video about paramedic monkeys that he can’t be bothered to pay attention to, Atsumu takes out his frustration on the fox keychain hanging from his backpack, absentmindedly fiddling with it between his fingers.

He couldn’t just ask you to sit with him — that would’ve drawn way too much attention from his mates and totally hijacked his plan of playing it cool — but he had at least hoped to find some strategic positioning that would still let him speak with you. The two of you haven’t spoken since that day, after all. The day you’d left his house like your feet were on fire.

His mates, however, were obnoxiously insistent on claiming the back-row seats, and Kita strictly forbade anyone from wandering around while the pullman was moving, so in the end, Atsumu didn’t get a single chance to talk to you. Meanwhile, Shōyō and Bokkun hogged you all to themselves.

He twists the keychain, the metal clinking softly in his hands.

He’d thought he’d at least meet your eyes here and there, even by fucking accident, especially with how often you turn around to talk to Bokkun, but your gaze has been frustratingly elusive the entire trip.

Maybe waiting for the right ‘casual’ opportunity wasn’t such a great idea, after all.But it’s not like he’s going to chase after you. That’s not his style. He’s the one being chased. Usually.

8. (Un)clearing your head (You)

Ahh. This is amazing.

The moment you step off the bus, your lungs fill with crisp, untainted air, so fresh it almost tastes delicious.

More than a hill but not quite a full mountain, the place chosen for the trip overlooks a vast prairie. All around you, brightly coloured leaves swirl in the breeze, their hues setting the landscape ablaze.

You don’t think you’ve ever been anywhere this beautiful.

And the smell! Oh, the smell. The rich scent of earth and vegetation tickles your nose, and you feel one with nature. For a while, you just stand there, taking in the breathtaking view before you.

It’s almost enough to make you forget that Atsumu is here.

Almost.

To be honest, if you had known he was coming, you probably would have stayed home. It’s been less than a week; of course your feelings are still all jumbled up. And you have no idea how to act around him.

Should you be friendly? Ignore him? Either way, you’ll have to pretend nothing happened, right? Isn’t that what you usually do after a hook-up? Not that you would know.

You shake your head and turn back toward the bus, helping the others unpack and deciding that you’ll just have to see what Atsumu does and adjust accordingly. He’s surely more well-versed at this kind of thing than you could ever be.

The camping site looks cosy: fiery trees surround it, creating a natural sort of shelter. There are a few camper vans, what look like restrooms to the right, and a small hut where the staff must be staying.“Okay, everybody. Let’s set up the tents before the sun sets. Then we can start on dinner,” Kita-san says, his face unperturbed. He has a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He looks really organised.

9. Falling into place (You)

“So… is there an instruction manual, or do we just wing it?” you ask, rustling one of the tent bags open.

“We don’t need that!” Bokuto puffs out his chest and smiles, opening a bag himself.

You look around, wondering where Shōyō went, and are met with the bustle of people setting up tents, gathering firewood, or placing the endless boxes of food near the barbecue area.

“Hmm, okay then.” You’re not too sure about your camping skills, and to be perfectly candid, the same applies to Bokuto, judging by the confused look on his face as he stares at the piece of tent he pulled out of the bag. But hey, what’s the worst that can happen?

Famous last words.

It’s been several minutes already, but what you have in front of you looks less like a tent and more like a tangle of poles and plastic that has been trampled on by the Huns’ army.

“I know I’m not an expert in this… but are you sure you’re putting the poles in the right way?” You ask, watching Bokuto trying to force a pole through one of those sleeve thingies. You helped assemble them, but Bokuto took over the threading — at full speed, of course. Judging by the state of the tent, there’s no way he’s doing it right.

You grab a crumpled section of plastic fabric, holding it up as you try to figure out the right order for the poles. Despite tilting your head and squinting your eyes, your grasp on the whole thing doesn’t improve. With a sigh, you decide to just wing it and attempt to thread one yourself.

Unsurprisingly, you must have chosen the wrong opening, because as you slide the pole in, it bends at an alarming angle and then pops loose. You hastily raise your arm to cover your face, already bracing for the inevitable smack, but instead of feeling a lash on your skin, you hear a low thud.

When you open your eyes again, an arm is stretched out in front of you. A rather big arm, in a red T-shirt. On your left, Atsumu is smirking.

“Are y’all trying to kill that tent or what?”

From behind your raised arms, you stare at him, then at his arm, and finally back at him again. Then you finally lower your arms, and the feeling of having put your face in front of a blast furnace makes you realise that you must be blushing.

As Atsumu takes the pole in hand, Bokuto huffs. “We have everything under control!”

Not even a second passes that another pole comes loose, and the sound of plastic fabric is accompanied by your hopeless exhale.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Atsumu shoots you a wink as he steps around the pole he just saved you from. “It still won’t hurt ya to receive some help, will it?” He says, looking at Bokuto again, hands propped on his sides.

Bokuto grumbles a reluctant ‘yes’ with slouching shoulders. You nod, taking a small step back as you watch Atsumu set to work.

His movements are fluid, practised. He must have done this before. He slides some poles off, spreads the fabric properly, and starts sliding them in again.

You end up waiting on the side, since you don’t really know what you could do now. Your eyes trail after Atsumu’s every movement like in a trance.

He must have somehow noticed how you shifted your weight from one foot to another or how you started torturing your nails because he asks for your help here and there, clearly more for your sake than his. Still, with his guide and everyone’s work, the tent is soon set up, straight and solid-looking.

You’re a bit reluctant to believe this was done with the same pieces you were working with earlier; it looks too different, but it’s probably just your hurt ego talking.

On the other side of the tent, Bokuto narrows his eyes, looking deep in thought for some instants. You’re starting to worry he’s actually upset when he straightens up and grins at Atsumu.

“Thanks, Tsumtsum!” He beams. He says something else as he storms off, but his words fly away with him, making it impossible for you to understand them.

After following the receding form of your friend, your eyes set on Atsumu, and you find him already looking at you with relaxed amusement spreading across his face.

“As frisky as always,” he comments with a smirk.

“Yeah.” You try to maintain eye contact, you really do, but it seems that gravity afflicts your pupils too. “Thanks for your help,” you add, now looking at your shoes, your voice coming out annoyingly weak.

“No problem.”

Despite not seeing his face, you can hear Atsumu’s smile in his voice, and your lips naturally mirror his emotion, curving up in a small smile.

“Oh,” you jolt then. Only now do you remember how he saved you from the pole earlier. “Is your arm alright?!” You step forward, almost tripping on a bag that must have certainly been there before you, but that you hadn’t noticed at all.

Atsumu takes a couple of steps toward you, too. As you reach him, you hover your hands over his forearm, not daring to touch him, but once he understands what you’re talking about, he lifts it for you to scan with widened eyes. There’s a diffused red line on his skin, surely the work of the pole running amok.

“Oh,” you say, deflating a little. “I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “No worries. It takes way more than this to defeat me.” His eyes are briefly lost somewhere far away. “My brother definitely made sure of that…” he mumbles.

Then he moves closer, just enough for your personal space receptors to start going off like alarms in a plummeting spaceship.

You have no choice but to raise your gaze, meeting his eyes. His beautiful, chocolatey hooded eyes that always so easily set on yours.

It’s overwhelming, as if you’re a dandelion, fragile and lost in the shadows of Yosemite’s towering sequoias.

Atsumu, instead, feels like the epitome of stability, strong and deeply rooted.

You inhale deeply.

He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but a voice tugs at him from behind you.

“Miya! What’re you doing? We need a hand over here!”

Atsumu looks beyond your shoulder, brow furrowing and shoulders falling just a little. “Ahh,” he sighs, giving you a long look, “Gotta go.” And just like that, he’s jogging past you.

You barely manage to murmur a weak “bye” before you find yourself alone in front of your now perfectly built tent.

As if your eardrums had just popped, you gain consciousness of the leaves rustling under the gentle push of a light breeze and of the rhythmical songs of the crickets.

You shake your head, trying to clear your dazed state, and start bringing the backpacks inside the tent. As you set the last one of them down, the expression Atsumu had just before leaving flashes before your eyes. You wonder if he felt the same reluctance when he walked away.

10. Python on the cob (Osamu)

Osamu loves grilling. Give him anything and he will make it just right. Juicy ribeye steak, savoury pork ribs, crispy grilled bacon, spicy grilled sausage, sweet corn on the cob, caramelised bell peppers, tender grilled zucchini, crisp charred broccoli, golden-brown eggplant slices… and the list could go on.

“Smells delicious!” A fairly high-pitched, more than moderately enthusiastic voice reaches him. He raises his head and sees Hinata walking towards him, plate in hand and nose up, following the scent of meat like a character from a kids’ cartoon.

And behind him, there’s you.

You remind him of some animal of prey, careful about your surroundings, about where you place your steps, about the sudden noises that burst around you. Maybe a deer. Or, well, a doe.

“It’s gonna taste great!” Hinata says, turning toward you and bumping into someone who was passing by. “Sorry!” He does a little bow to an annoyingly tall guy with near-white hair and an intimidating face. Osamu recognises him as one of the previous members of the famous Dateko Iron Wall, if he’s remembering right. The guy looks kinda out of place to Osamu, but strangely enough, responds to Hinata’s apology with a little bow accompanied by an unexpected, even if small, smile. Once they’ve split up, Hinata looks back at you.

“Osamu is a great cook,” he grins just before stopping in front of the grill Osamu is working on, shifting his big smile from you to him.

“Only the lean parts, right?” Osamu asks.

The tangerine-haired boy nods enthusiastically. “Thank you, Osamu-kun! I’ve been waiting for dinner all day!”

The cook’s lips quirk up. He will never admit it, but, just like his brother, he’s kind of susceptible to compliments. However, he soon puts his lips back into place and puts himself to work, filling up Hinata’s plate with some juicy chicken thighs, steak, corn on the cob, caramelised bell peppers and roasted Brussels sprouts.

Beaming at his plate, Hinata thanks him again and dashes toward another food area. Osamu could swear he saw him struggling to keep his drooling in check.

After someone like Hinata, the hesitation in your steps as you come forward is impossible to miss. “Hi,” you greet him with the hint of a smile.

He still has no idea how you and his brother ended up spending a night — no, two nights — together. You look so shy and he… well… he’s ‘Tsumu, his devilish twin. You must have some hidden side to you, that’s for sure. Who knows, maybe he’ll get to see it if you and Atsumu become a thing.

“Good evenin’,” Osamu replies with a cordial smile. “What’re ya eating tonight?”

You fill your plate with grilled veggies and corn — seems like meat’s not really your thing.

“By the way,” you blurt out as he’s putting the food on your plate, and you speak so quickly that he almost doesn’t catch it, “I tried your onigiri last weekend. They were amazing.”

He can see a bit of shyness melt away as your lips curve up in a genuine smile.

Osamu’s eyes light up. “Thanks, they’re not that hard to make, but it’s still easy to mess them up.” He explains how you need to properly cook the rice, wet your hands and use a bit of salt when shaping the onigiri, and be careful when you add the filling. While he’s explaining, he sneaks an extra serving of corn onto your plate.

You listen intently, seemingly interested and not just trying to be polite. If Atsumu was here, he would start teasing him, calling him a food maniac. It’s entirely possible he would get jealous too, which probably wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“And if it seems like too much work, you can always come by our dormitory,” he winks, “I make them at least twice a week.”

You don’t look like you’ll ever just pop there, but you do look tempted. “Oh,” you say suddenly, leaning to the side and looking past the grill at the lower part of his body. “Is your leg okay? I heard you got hurt.”

Osamu briefly looks at his leg, then sets his eyes on you as he crosses his arms, tongs still in hand. “‘Tis but a scratch,” he declares, puffing his chest slightly.

You make a small inhale and freeze, mouth agape. You stare at him for a couple of seconds, a serious expression on your face, until a smile starts creeping through and you burst into laughter. “You’re a Monty Python fan too?!”

He raises his brows in response, an imperceptible assent that seems to make you quite happy. It looks like you have good taste, differently from his brother.

“I would have never guessed,” you say, still chuckling.

“Not many know about it,” he comments casually, shooting you a smile. It’s always fun to subvert expectations.

He lets out a little hum, uncrossing his arms. “My brother does, but he’s not much for puns and the like.” He starts to tend to the food again; he has no intention of burning any of it.

“Oh, really?” you reply, your smile cracked. As quickly as you opened up, you seem to close up again, your hands tight on the plate you’re holding.

“Yeah. His taste is usually questionable,” he states, noticing the way you tighten your lips, “but sometimes even he can get it right.”

He shoots you a lopsided grin, hoping you’ll get the hint.

A hesitant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“He can be a little slow, though… So you might want to give him a little nudge.”

At those words, you flinch. “I what…?” You must be wondering how much he knows. About you and Atsumu. About that night, and the one after.

With impeccable timing, Hinata comes back to the grill, two full plates precariously held on his palms. “Y/n! Are you ready? We got a spot over there,” he nods toward a trunk laid on the other side of the bonfire.

“Sure,” you reply, your prey-like look reminding Osamu of the first time he saw you.

11. Memories (You)

The camp at night is beautiful. You’re sitting on a tree trunk repurposed as a bench, taking in the scene around you.

The bonfire paints its surroundings with a golden light, starting from the people gathered around it and stretching to the trees. Above, the stars twinkle in endless clusters, much brighter than what you’re used to.

Groups of people are scattered around, some talking animatedly while others quietly chew on their food and others gulp down their beers.

A guy you recognise from last week, but whose name you don’t know, is sitting on a log, a guitar resting on his lap. He seems to be playing the acoustic version of a popular song, even though you can’t seem to remember its title right now. Around him, people sway to the rhythm or attempt to sing along, some with more success than others.

“Aren’t you eating that?”

You turn as your heart clenches in your chest. You could swear he was not there a moment ago. Does he have some sort of teleporting ability? What would be his hero costume…? Wait, that’s not the point. You’re just glad your reflexes were too slow to scream. Gathering the attention of the entire camp is the last thing you want.

“No,” you finally reply, glancing at Atsumu and then at your plate. “Your brother gave me way too much food.” You tried to eat that last corn on the cob, but you felt that if you had, you’d have exploded.

“Ah, yeah, he’s just like a granny,” Atsumu chuckles. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his half-smile as he leans toward your plate, casually extends his arm, and picks up your leftovers, his movement careful.

“I’ll take it, then.” He says, already munching at it.

You chuckle, the idea of Osamu in a pink apron and a curly grey wig popping into your mind. Then, you gather the little courage in your body to turn to your left.

You’ve thought of this before, but Atsumu looks kind of cute when he eats. His usually sharp cheeks puff out, round like a hamster’s.

“No, really.” Atsumu insists after swallowing his first bite. “He even nags like one!” His voice turns whiny as he puts on a serious face, furrowing his brow and squinting his eyes.

“Stop drinking or you’ll get a belly!” He waves the half-eaten corn in the air.

“Eat your veggies!” He moves it again, and you start worrying he’s going to drop it.

“Always make sure to stretch properly!” He gives the corn an angry bite.

You chuckle at his impression, knowing full well it’s probably at least a tad exaggerated, but you like that side of him. Atsumu is a bundle of energy, emotions, and tomfoolery. If you had someone like him beside you, you’re sure you’d never get bored.

Wait, what am I thinking?! Heat comes rushing to your cheeks.

You’re conflicted. A part of you wants to run away and feels overly conscious, stiff, awkward. But the other… the other wants to keep talking with him all night. Probably more.

You simply love the way his emotions spill so liberally across his face. The way his voice swings from high to low, and then to high again. The way he laughs with his entire body.

“‘Samu plays the ‘mature twin’ act, but he’s no better than me.” Atsumu glances in his twin’s direction, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “There was this one time he, Suna, and I got completely wasted and—”

You raise your brows in a jokingly judging look.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not like I do it every day,” Atsumu complains, and you laugh, nodding for him to continue.

“It was all because ‘Samu had just been dumped and needed to drown his sorrows for a bit. He’d been a moping mess all week.” Atsumu sniffs. “Anyway, we got thrown out of the party we went to because our friend’s parents came home a day early and made a scene, so we ended up at a park nearby to sober up.”

You glance at Osamu, still working the grill and chatting with a guy you saw sitting with him earlier on the bus. The just mentioned Suna, perhaps.

“At some point, with full seriousness — he looked like fucking Ushiwaka, for fuck’s sake — he says ‘I’ll be back soon.’” Atsumu tosses the corn leftovers into the bonfire. “And since he’d been complaining about wanting ice cream for like half an hour, we thought he was just going to the konbini down the road.”

Atsumu turns to you, catching you watching intently as you listen.

You smile, fondness seeping through, and shiver slightly. Maybe you should have worn a thicker sweatshirt.

“Are you cold?”

“Ahm,” you start, only to momentarily get lost in his eyes, “a little?”

Atsumu gets up, shrugs off his varsity jacket, and drapes it over your shoulder. Before you can even mutter a ‘thank you’, he’s already sitting again, picking up where he left off as if nothing happened. “So, the konbini, right? Turns out, he was not there. We spent ten minutes looking for him before we finally found him on the opposite side of the park, cap in the dirt, screaming at someone.”

“Did he get into a fight?” you ask, somehow feeling a little concerned even if everything’s said and done already.

“That’s what I thought! I was already gearing up to throw a couple of punches if necessary. He’s my brother, after all.” Atsumu shrugs, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a helpless what-can-you-do expression. “But turns out, there was no need.”

You glance in Osamu’s direction before huddling into Atsumu’s jacket, pulling it close with both hands. Your stomach, very maturely, does a somersault.

“So, what happened?” You ask after a beat, meeting Atsumu’s eyes.

“Oh, you’ll never guess who he was talking to.”

Curious, you wait for him to continue.

Atsumu looks at his brother, then at you, and smiles a smug smile. “A tree.”

Your head twitches slightly. “What?”

“I shit you not, it was a fucking tree. ‘Samu went on rambling for, like, twenty minutes.”

You laugh softly. “And what was he saying?”

Atsumu shrugs again. “Something about his girlfriend regretting leaving him ‘cause he’s a great cook.” He chuckles. “The rest of it was pretty much incomprehensible, to be honest.”

You both burst into laughter, and you can’t help but imagine the scene in your head. Osamu tends to have a serious demeanor, but after seeing him drunkenly dance at the party and now hearing this, you can’t picture him as a serious guy anymore.

Atsumu scoots closer and takes his phone out of his pocket, a conspiratorial look on his face. “I actually have a video of him. Suna recorded the whole thing, of course.”

Then he nods toward his twin. “You see the guy next to ‘Samu? The one with those sly eyes? That’s Suna.”

Atsumu turns towards you again, but in the movement, he gets closer than he was before. Seeing his face this so close, you stiffen slightly, your heartbeat picking up just a little.

You bite your lower lip. Atsumu’s eyes widen. After what feels like an eternity, you both shift back, trying to ease the sudden tension in the air.

Atsumu’s quick to recover, going back to what he was saying. “He’s a phone addict. And films everything.” He steals a glance at you before looking back to his phone, his right leg bouncing a couple of times. “We used to fight a lot, my brother and I. Suna filmed every single fist fight we had,” he says with a chuckle. Then he scrolls through his gallery, which you don’t look at, trying to be respectful of his privacy — not that he seems to care. “Found it!” He turns the phone toward you, only to hold it to his chest a moment after.

You exhale through your nose, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “What?”

Atsumu’s usual carefree demeanor is replaced by an air of seriousness you’ve never seen before. “This is a secret,” he warns you, lowering his voice. “If he finds out that this video exists and that I showed it to you. I’m dead. Like, 100% dead.”

Despite your best efforts, you burst into laughter.

“What?” Atsumu asks, his brow furrowing, though a smile tugs at his lips.

With great effort, you stifle your laughter, forcing your face into something resembling seriousness, even though your lips twitch and amusement shines in your eyes.

He can be so childish.

Clearing your throat, you try to match Atsumu’s solemn expression. “Alright, I promise to keep it a secret.”

“To keep what a secret?”

A wince propagates between Atsumu and you, followed by a synced sharp inhale, and Atsumu’s jacket almost falls off of your shoulders.

Osamu is standing right behind you: arms crossed on his chest, lips tight, and brows raised in a scolding look.

“Nothing! Don’t put your damned nose where it doesn’t belong,” barks Atsumu. It would almost be a convincing lie if only his voice hadn’t risen in pitch in what can’t be described as anything but comical.

Osamu squints. “Lemme see.” He leans forward, reaching for Atsumu’s phone. As the two fight over it, you are reminded of Jake and Ray, your grandma's border collies. They got along really well, but give them only one toy and they would be at each other’s throats in a nanosecond.

In the end, Osamu is the one to pull through. His gaze zeroes in on Atsumu’s phone screen; silence falls — at least in your little bubble — as the three of you freeze in place. Then, his eyes curl downward. “I knew you were up to something.”

“What? When?” Atsumu asks.

Meanwhile, your focus keeps bouncing from one twin to the other.

“You two lovebirds kept throwing glances at me,” Osamu scoffs. He gives you a brief stare before turning his burning gaze to his brother. “And you kept staring with that obnoxious smirk of yours,” he adds, making a face that’s nothing short of disgusted.

Lovebirds. He just called you lovebirds.

Does he really know what happened between the two of you? The conversation before was a little weird and… You chew on the word in your head as the two twins bicker. The contrast in expression is almost too stark to be believable. Osamu’s face is barely moving, an indifferent air not-so-subtly mocking Atsumu, who, on the other hand, seems to be trying to showcase the entire range of micro-expressions on his face.

“Hey!” Bokuto calls. “What’s happening here?” Shōyō adds, both of them suddenly appearing in front of you, their curious faces staring at you and the twins. The firelight wraps around them, casting a halo-like glow. It’s not an unfitting look, to be honest.

“Atsumu was up to his usual bullshit,” Osamu explains, tone flat.

“Oh, Atsumu again?” Shōyō asks. Coming from him, the epitome of innocence, the words are much more cutting than they would have been if spoken by anyone else.

Atsumu gets up with a scowl. “I wasn’t doing anything!” He shoots a glance at all the men present, then at you, and seems ready to storm off when a voice interrupts the skirmish.

“It’s story time!” Shouts the guy with the guitar. “Gather around the fire!”

He looks thrilled, while you’re pretty sure that at least three people just sighed beside you.

Shōyō summons a blanket and lays it in front of the trunk-bench, and pats the spot next to him. You step forward, ending up seated in front of Atsumu, while Bokuto perches himself on Atsumu’s right, legs crossed, looking impossibly tiny for someone his size.

Osamu leans down, his face a little too close to your ear. “You will forget about whatever he told you, understood?” His voice is downright frightening.

You twist towards him, and you really shouldn’t feel as scared as you are. He’s not a serial killer, after all.

He must notice your apprehension because he quickly softens the blow with a wink, leaving you there with a faint, dumb smile as he placidly walks away.

“I heard Kita-san is really good at telling horror stories.” Shōyō whispers, pulling you away from the ‘threat’ and back to him. It’s really cute how he looks both excited and concerned, just like he was when you watched horror movies on Halloween when you were still in school.

“Oh, yeah, me too! I can’t wait!” Bokuto says, propping his elbows on his legs and cradling his chin in his hands. He looks adorable.

You have a look around. The other campers are gathered all around the fire, some sitting on logs, some on a blanket, a couple on foldable chairs, while others unceremoniously sprawl on the grass.

As soon as the murmuring fades, a warm voice hums in your ear, “Lean back on the trunk.”

Okay, what right does Atsumu have to send shivers down your nape just because he talked?! You turn slightly, glancing at him from the side. “Won’t it dirty your jacket?”

Atsumu’s look is that of a science professor who just had a parent call the Earth flat. “Come on,” he prompts.

And so you lean back. As slowly and hesitantly as physically possible, but you do lean back. You kind of wish you had one of those beers they were passing around earlier. Your back meets the curved surface of the trunk, and immediately after Atsumu’s knees press lightly against your shoulders.

“See? It’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, swallowing some non-existent saliva and turning back toward the fire. You hug your knees and rest your chin on your crossed arms. It almost feels as if you’re embraced in his hug, and a small, private smile blooms on your face.

Suddenly, you can feel Hinata’s stare boring a hole in your direction. You shamelessly — well, not exactly, since you do feel ashamed — keep your eyes set in front of you, ignoring his muted question and hugging your knees a little closer.

“The story I’m about to tell you took place a long time ago, out in the fields of Tamba-Sasayama,” Kita begins. His voice is composed, just a hint above a murmur, and everyone around the bonfire stills and leans forward, captivated by his flame-enlightened face.

“There was an old man, a merchant of fine silks and rare dyes. He had travelled all day to reach the city, hoping that on the morrow he could sell his wares and gather enough ryo to earn himself and his family a few sacks of rice and fresh fish for another week.”

Kita pauses, looking around the circle and meeting the eyes of his audience.

“The sun had set long ago,” he continues, “but the moon was kind, its full shape lighting his way and allowing him to tread with steady steps along the muddy road that led to the city.”

Tonight’s moon is kind too, you think as you glance at the bright circle.

“It was humid. Vapour rose from the waters of the moat that bordered the road. At last, the merchant saw lights in the distance, clustered together atop a dark curve, the small hill of Tamba-Sasayama. ‘I’ve finally arrived,’ he said to himself with relief.”

Kita’s voice drops lower, and he stares intently into the fire.

“However, the wrinkles of his relieved smile smoothed away as a faint sound called for his attention.” Kita pauses, letting the ominous sound take form in your minds.

“It came from the moat, where a lone figure was looking at the water. A woman, he realised — a young woman from a good family. Her elegant kimono stretched over her legs, and a pin with an elaborate higanbana gleamed under the moonlight.”

At the mention of the woman, you and a few people around the fire shift in your seats. Everybody knows that, in horror stories, women on the side of the road are never a good sign.

Atsumu also moves, placing his elbows on his thighs and lowering his head close to yours.

“Got cold feet?” he teases you.

You don’t reply, because there’s no way you’re going to disturb Kita’s storytelling, but you glance at Atsumu briefly with a feigned scowl.

“She was sobbing, poor thing.” Kita continues. “‘Young lady!’ the old merchant called. ‘Are you here all by yourself?’ But the girl didn’t reply, her weeping making her shoulders tremble. The man stepped closer, worry creasing his face that had seen too many suns.”

Okay, you do feel a little queasy, but that’s normal. The only problem is that when something suddenly brushes against your neck, you let out a muffled gasp.

You turn around, only to find Atsumu mischievously giggling. You roll your eyes and give him a weak jab to the shin. He fakes being hurt, a whispered but dramatic “Ow!” following the definitely earned revenge.

“Shhh,” someone chides from somewhere on your right. An embarrassed smile crosses your lips, and Atsumu unapologetically giggles behind you.

Your pointy elbow is about to get to work once again, but Kita’s voice quickly brings you back into the story.

“‘Young lady!’ the man called again. ‘It’s all right. Please, stop crying. Do you live in Tamba-Sasayama? I’m heading there; I can accompany you home.’ His heart ached at the sight of the girl, and his voice was soft with kindness.”

“The girl continued to sob, though a little less harshly now, and rose slowly to her feet.”

Shōyō starts shifting in his seat — he’s always been a bit of a scaredy-cat, after all — so you give him a gentle pat on the knee, a reassuring smile playing at the corners of your mouth. He returns the smile with soft eyes.

“The man smiled,” Kita continues. “‘There, there, let’s take you home,’ he said. The young woman finally turned away from the moat, facing the old merchant, but he could not see her face, for she hid it behind the embroidered sleeve of her kimono. His heart ached with pity at the sight, and he stepped a little closer, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.”

Damn, why are you so tense? The eerie atmosphere Kita has conjured is really beginning to seep into your bones.

“‘Don’t hide, young lady. You’re safe,’ the old man reassured her, and he felt relieved to see the girl stop sobbing. But then—” Kita’s voice drops to a whisper, “she made a strange sound: low and breathy, almost guttural, and let her sleeve fall from her face.

“The old merchant looked at the oval, but where two eyes, a nose, and a mouth should have been, only a smooth, pale surface shone under the dainty light of the moon.”

A couple of gasps echo across the fire.

Kita, with a calmness that seems to multiply everyone’s disquiet, continues. “‘Young lady?’ the old man said, his voice trembling, but all he heard in response was a low, dreadful murmur, a sound too strange to belong to a human throat.”

“And so he ran. He ran as he had not run in numerous years. His knees ached, his feet slipped on the muddy road, but still, he ran.

“Finally, the lights of Tamba-Sasayama drew closer, and he spotted one light dimly shining nearer than the others. It belonged to a soba stall. The old merchant did not have time to wonder why a stand would be open at such a late hour. All he did was rush there, desperate for help.”

Atsumu’s right leg bounces a few times beside you. Is he getting jumpy, too?

“There stood a man, slender, with sharp features. ‘Good sir, I need your help!’ the merchant gasped. ‘I was— I was walking here and that lady— that lady… You must help me!’

“The man said nothing, and only stared at the old merchant. But his eyes were devoid of any human warmth, dark like water in the night.”

Kita pauses a little longer, and everyone’s breath stops together with him.

“He handed the old merchant a plate. ‘Here, have some soba,’ he said. The man did not want to eat, but he would never have refused such a kind offer, so he accepted the plate.

“However, when he looked into it, what he saw wasn’t delicious, steamy food, but a face. A face with an unnatural, disgusting smile. A face that looked just like that of the man he had just met.

“As the old man stared at the plate, horrified, the seller let out a raucous laugh. Reluctantly but inevitably, the old merchant looked up, and what he found was a smooth, pale, featureless face.

“And suddenly, the light of the stand went out. “The old merchant frantically looked around, searching at least for the kind light of the moon, but even as he looked up, only darkness remained.

“Darkness, and a low, breathy, guttural sound.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your imagination running wild as you try to figure out what happened to the old merchant.

Suddenly, a real low, breathy, guttural sound, echoes not far from you.

Several screams follow.

Then, a full, proud laugh.

The guy who was playing the guitar earlier stands up, laughing his ass off as he soaks in the furious stares of the people he just nearly scared to death — you included.

You’re not entirely sure — shocked as you were during the cacophony of screams — but you think you heard one right behind you that could, probably, have belonged to Atsumu. It was so high-pitched, though, so you can’t say for sure.

“So? How was it?” Suna joins your little group, now standing in a disorderly line to get some marshmallows to roast over the fire. He shoots an especially inquisitive look at Atsumu, who snorts.

“Good. Kita-san hasn’t lost his touch.” Atsumu crosses his arms, legs slightly apart in what looks like some kind of power pose.

“And you weren’t scared?” Suna asks.

“Of course not,” Atsumu scoffs.

Suna smiles — a lopsided grin with narrow, predatory eyes. “Are you sure?” he prompts.

As Atsumu starts grumbling about his friend being annoying, Suna pulls his hand out of his trouser pocket and shows him the screen of his phone, although it kind of looks like he’s pointing it at you more than at him.

The screen shows a photo of Atsumu mid-scream: eyes wild, mouth gaping, shoulders practically up to his ears.

Bokuto and Shōyō burst out laughing.

Bokuto slaps Atsumu on the back with such force that you wince along with him.

Shōyō tries to hide his silly little smirk behind his hand, but it’s useless: his chest is shaking with laughter.

Atsumu looks like he’s about to kill someone.

Suna carries the same smug expression cats have when they push a cherished mug off the table. He glances at you. “Did he annoy you? He has the habit of taking it out on others when he’s scared.”

Well, Atsumu did, in fact, annoy you by trying to scare the life out of you during the story. Unnervingly, all it does is make you shift your shoulders slightly at the memory of his touch.

The “which” in your original is what creates the tangle — it forces the sentence to fold back on itself right at the moment when you want it to land.

“I did not!” Atsumu lies, blatantly.

The corners of your mouth twitch. At least he’s spared you the need to reply.

The queue slowly shortens as everyone receives fluffy white marshmallows and sticks to brandish.

“Suna really had to go and take a photo,” Atsumu grumbles behind you.

“Well, I suppose that his making-memories mania doesn’t always work in your favour,” you say, glancing at him briefly, the amusement in your voice unconcealed.

“Hey,” he pouts. “You were scared, too.”

“Well, yeah, but at least I admit it,” you reply with a chuckle, this time without turning around.

“Oh, shut up.” His words might sting, if only the voice behind them weren’t so affectionate.

Then he wraps his arms around you, pinning your arms and blocking your movements.

“‘Tsumu?”

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“I can’t move,” you say after a nervous swallow.

He hugs you a little tighter and sways you lazily from side to side. “That’s kind of the point, y’know?”

Eyes blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks, limbs tightening, embarrassment and an electrifying jolt shoot through your body, and a silly smile unfurls on your face. You feel so happy that you stop struggling and give in to his hug — not loose enough to lean your head back, but relaxed enough to let your shoulders drop, sinking a little further into his embrace.

Atsumu’s silence betrays his surprise, and for a moment, all you can hear is his breath close to your ear.

And that, to your utter dismay, awakens thoughts that are definitely not suitable for the situation. “Does your brother also have compromising videos of you on his phone?” you ask, in a hopefully smooth attempt to distract yourself from Atsumu’s warmth.

“Of course not,” he replies smugly. “I made sure to delete them all,” he adds, his brain-to-mouth filter clearly malfunctioning.

“So there were compromising videos of you on his phone,” you tease.

There are only a couple of people ahead of you now, so Atsumu’s arms loosen and he releases you from his embrace.

“Nothing embarrassing. But there was no way I could leave such a weapon in his hands.”

“You say they weren’t embarrassing and then call them a weapon…” You tsk. “You do realise you’re contradicting yourself, right?” you chaff.

In response, Atsumu darts ahead and swipes the marshmallows and stick that one of the students was handing to you.

“Too slow,” he grins.

You shake your head and wait patiently as the student gives you a fresh set of snacks before following Atsumu back to the bonfire.

12. Conundrum (Bokuto)

Something’s weird today.

Firstly, Bokuto’s stomach is upset. And his stomach is never upset. Well, aside from that one time Hinata gifted him a 1 kg bag of gummy bears, and he ate the entire thing in one go.

Secondly, Akaashi hasn’t been able to chat all day because he’s had back-to-back meetings since that morning.

Thirdly, Atsumu seems to be glued to you today. But didn’t you guys only meet last week?

It's weird. Atsumu always spends times like these arguing with his brother or talking about volleyball with him and Shōyō. Or playing Don Juan with the prettiest girls. Was it the Don Juan? He’ll have to ask Akaashi later.

Oh, and Atsumu even hugged you, like, a moment ago. It’s not like he’s ever been shy with girls — or boys — but this feels different.

“If you keep staring like that, I’ll catch fire,” Atsumu suddenly says, forcing him to abandon his reflections.

“I wasn’t staring!” Bokuto squawks.

Everyone around him bursts into laughter, but luckily Atsumu doesn’t ask him why he was staring. Bokuto’s not good at lying, and even he knows that it’s best not to bring up stuff like this.

He focuses on you now, but you’re sitting way too close for him to get a clear look without arousing suspicion.

Maybe Shōyō knows something. He should ask him later.

13. Here comes the tickle monster (You)

Leaving Atsumu’s butterflies-in-the-stomach-inducing actions aside, you can say that the evening is going really smoothly. Everyone’s chatting amiably, small groups forming, then disbanding, then forming again, their composition and topic ever-changing.

You’ve been involved in a lively discussion about which anime song is better, another about the raccoon that stole all the marshmallows during last year’s trip, and now you’re talking with Yukie, who’s meticulously recounting to you how, during a volleyball-slash-socialising trip they made to Argentina this summer, Atsumu ended up locked in a locker room with Oikawa for the whole of three hours. And since Shōyō has repeatedly told you about Oikawa’s temper, and you already had a taste of Atsumu’s one, you can definitely imagine the kind of conversation the two of them might have had.

The chat’s all good and well, but every now and then your attention is temporarily grabbed by Shōyō and Bokuto, who are confabulating behind one of the now cold grills. They keep shooting glances at you and putting so much effort into being secretive that they stand out even more than usual. They might as well be whistling and kicking rocks.

It’s right when you’re giving one of your quick looks that Atsumu does one of the stupidest things he could have ever done.

“What are you girls talking about?” He asks as he crouches behind you and presses his index fingers in your armpits. Despite the three layers you’re wearing, you jump on the spot, your head moving up and back and hitting Atsumu right on the nose.

“Ow,” he whines, pulling back.

You can’t believe it’s the second time Atsumu gets hurt because of you. A hissed “shit” escapes your lips. You frantically twist in your seat, eyes wide and brows waning. “Are you hurt?”

Atsumu’s holding his nose with one hand, an impossibly sweet chuckle tinted with pain resonating behind it.

“Are you alright?” you press, feeling your entire body itch to get closer and check it out for yourself.

“Hmm… I’m wet,” he replies.

What?

Then he moves his hand away, a half smile somehow still on his face.

“Is that blood?!” You’re lucky you’re sitting because you can swear your knees just gave in. “Tissues,” you say, thinking out loud and getting up to look for your bag. “We need tissues. I’ll be right back.”

You run toward your tent, bee-lining between people walking unbearably slowly and bags that some idiots have left right in the middle of the path between the tents.

It’s only when you find the packet of tissues and turn to head back to the bonfire that you notice that Atsumu has followed you as he does his best to keep the blood from dripping down on his clothes.

“Here,” you hand him a couple of tissues — have your hands always been this clumsy? — and watch apprehensively as he cleans himself up and makes little cones of cotton that he composedly sticks up his nostrils.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh.

Atsumu chuckles. “No worries.”

“Should we have someone look at it?”

“Nah, it’s already happened a couple of times,” Atsumu shrugs. “But if you ruined my perfect nose, I won’t forgive you.”

“Well, it’s kind of your fault, too, you know?” As guilty as you feel, you’re also a bit pissed. You got so scared.

“What?”

“Who the hell goes and tickles someone out of nowhere like that?!”

Atsumu’s response is a roaring laugh, and what seems to be an owl flies away in all haste.

“Still, I couldn’t have known you would have backflipped like that,” he chortles.

His lazy gaze sets on you, insistent, silent, somewhat loud, too. He must be thinking of something, something he doesn’t care to share with you. There’s a certain sparkle in his gaze, a certain tension in his lips.

You don’t really know why, but you feel yourself flushing all over.

“We should go back,” you say, your voice frustratingly wavering, and head for the bonfire without waiting for a reply.

Your movement, however, is stopped by Atsumu’s grasp of your wrist.

“Don’t.” His request is simple. Gentle. And anxiety-inducing.

What is it that he wants? How can you be chill about this whole situation when he keeps looking at you like that? Really, it’s so hard to figure him out.

“Come with me.”

It’s his turn now to go on without waiting for a reply, and he simply pulls you along with him, head fixed straight ahead and mouth uncharacteristically silent.

He follows a trail that seems to border the back of the camp, a dirt road lightened here and there by soft, round lamp posts.

You’re so hyperaware of your wrist it might as well be on fire.

After a couple of curves, the road opens to a lake. It’s the one you saw on the map earlier, the one that wraps the southern part of the forest like a nest. The moon is full, so bright it’s almost blinding, and for a brief moment you’re reminded of Kita’s horror story. You rid your mind of the thought with a shake of your head.

You’re too busy watching your steps to properly observe the lake at first, but once you reach one of the worn-out piers, its wooden beams creaking under your steps, you finally take in the sparkling pool of water. Moonlight breaks on the surface and scatters around in a lovely glow.

Atsumu walks until the end of the boardwalk and then sits down, pulling you down with him and almost making you fall.

“Hey!” You complain, trying to wriggle your hand out of his grasp for the first time since he took it.

Atsumu smirks and uses your precarious position against you, leaning on his knee and bringing his other hand across you. He’s painfully close, and with the way he’s pinning you down, you have nowhere to escape.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he teases. You have no idea what kind of face he’s talking about, but you have barely parted your lips to say something back when his own press against yours.

For fuck’s sake.

You really want to be mad. To ask him why he’s doing this. To understand if, despite his words that first night, he is, in fact, toying with you.

But you can’t.

You can’t think because kissing him feels amazing, and even your encumbered brain has to let. fucking. go. for once in its wet, electric life.

Your free hand nestles in his hair, pulling him close, making you both lose your balance and fall back on the wooden beams.

They’re rough and a bit wet. It doesn’t really matter.

Atsumu chuckles and props himself on his elbow, apparently bent on not leaving your lips for even the briefest of moments.

Saying that this doesn’t hypercharge your body with exhilaration would be a big, fat lie.

It’s almost as if both of you were scared that if you let go, it will all be over. You never thought you would feel the want to be closer to someone this much. And you’re not talking about the kissing. Well, that too.

Yet, your body betrays you by reminding you that you need to breathe properly every now and then. The audacity.

After you break the kiss, Atsumu rolls and lands on your side, sort of mashing your hand under his nape and soon turning his head to look at you.

The sound of breathing. A fresh whiff of wind. Crickets. You are aware of it for the whole of a second before you’re drawn to his eyes once again.

Oh, the way he looks at you. There’s something in his look that strips you of all your defences, leaving you completely vulnerable in front of those big chocolatey eyes. Despite your self-consciousness, there’s a feeling of comfort too, the desire for him to never stop.

Atsumu inhales sharply, then lets the air go, his eyes momentarily lost somewhere downward.

“What if—” he says as he looks up. “What if we met again?”

“Met?”

“Yeah. Out. Just the two of us.”

Okay, if this isn’t a ‘speech 100’ example, you don’t know what is. What does he even mean?

“You mean like…” You hesitate. “Where?”

Atsumu’s thick eyebrows fall heavy on his eyes, and he turns to face the glittering sky. “I don’t know. Dinner? Cinema? There’s an amusement park I’ve been meaning to check out.”

He’s driving you crazy. This sounds a lot like dating. But it can’t be, can it? “Like, on… dates?”

Atsumu looks startled, and you mentally punch yourself. You just fucked up, didn’t you? He turns to you again, a small smile softening his features. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

What?!

If you were anyone else, you’d probably mock yourself for being this disbelieving, but your incredulity seems to shoo away whatever hesitation was in Atsumu, who gives a carefree laugh.

“Yeah, real dates. With you,” he says with a teasing smile. As you proceed to clumsily freeze in place, he starts to laugh even harder. “You really are dense sometimes, you know that?”

He sits up and brings a hand across your body again, his chest hovering over yours, his face mere centimetres away. “Just say yes.”

Your heartbeat sounds like the kick drum of a metalcore song. Well… There are worse ways to die.

“Yes.” You finally, somehow, get the sound out, despite your throat feeling as narrow as a straw, and a rosy sense of relief stems from that single, short word.

“Great,” Atsumu replies, a silly smile on his face as he once again drops on you, ready to hinder your natural breathing rhythm once more.

14. The pancake betrayal (Atsumu) (Roughly a month later)

“Are these… pancakes?” You appear from behind the corner of the corridor, your hair still a little wet.

“Yeah, isn’t it obvious?” Atsumu smiles, tapping the pan’s lid with a spatula.

“No. I mean. Yes, but… have you—” you glance around — “made them yourself?”

Atsumu realises that you must be looking for any traces of takeaway boxes.

“Don’t worry, they’re edible,” he chuckles, turning back to the pan. The pancakes are ready, and they look absolutely great. “I had ‘Samu teach me.”

“You did?” You ask, your voice high-pitched in surprise.

“Well, apparently it is not acceptable to order takeaway for breakfast when you’re with your boo.” Atsumu pouts.

You don’t reply, so he turns to see what you’re up to, but he’s stopped in his tracks as your arms suddenly latch onto him. “This is really sweet,” you say, hugging him from behind. Your arms gently hold him close as you lean with one cheek on his shoulder. It feels warm.

Did you just call him sweet? Like, for real?

He tries to turn again, but you resist. “No.” Your hug tightens. “Don’t move.”

“The pancakes are going to get cold.”

“Just a moment,” you lull him, your voice dreamy.

If he’s being sincere, he doesn’t want you to let go. You are so soft against his back, and your fingers are tenderly pressing on his chest.

You make a little happy hum. “Okay. We can eat now.” You release him from your embrace and start to step away. “Do you need help with anything?”

The sound of the spatula falling on the metal of the pan weakly resonates through the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Atsumu replies. “Come here,” he murmurs. Then his left hand latches into yours, pulling you close, while the right one rises to cup your face.

Oh, those eyes. Those eyes that are looking right at him, as if slowly making their way into his soul.

In fact, forget that “as if”.

Atsumu leans down, his hand never leaving your face, and with an impatient movement pulls you closer.

Your surprise escapes in a giggle, but your voice quiets down the moment his lips touch yours. The silence is followed by your body melting in his half hug as you happily reciprocate the kiss.

It’s sweet. Cute. Comfortable.

It’s also not enough.

Atsumu’s thoughts shift. More precisely, they go somewhere else entirely. He grabs the small of your back, pulling you even closer, and you hum questioningly, your eyes opening just briefly before he presses his lips on yours once again.

You pull away for a moment. “What about breakfast?”

Atsumu pulls you closer once more. “Later.”

You chuckle. “Weren’t you the one worried the pancakes would get cold?”

Atsumu moves his hands to your hips, his fingers sinking softly. “I can make them again,” he says, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. “Now kiss me.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, but with a bit too much enthusiasm, and your lip catches between your teeth.

“Ow,” you whine quietly.

His face contracts and he retracts a little. “Ah, sorry! Are you alright?!”

You chuckle. “Yeah, no biggie.”

“Let me see.” He places his thumb on your lip, gently pulling it down, and closely examines the flushed, rosy skin. “Yeah, seems alright,” he says, now calmer.

“I told you,” you chuckle in response.

“Still...” His thumb slides down to your chin and keeps you in place as he places a soft kiss exactly where you bit your lip.

The way your breathing deepens sends sparks through his entire body, and he goes back to kissing you for real. His tongue slides ever so lightly on the centre of your top lip, prodding you to part your lips for him.

It’s fucking hot. Like, literally, but also… you are so fucking hot.

As you continue kissing, barely taking the time to breathe, he feels the pressure in his pants rise, and it’s not long before he pulls you even closer, making sure that you are aware of it, too.

“Oh, ‘Tsumu,” you murmur.

“If you’re asking me to stop and talk about breakfast again, I’m going to hoist you up and take you upstairs.”

You chuckle. “I have no intention of stopping you.”

He kisses you again and smiles against your lips. “Good.”

This time it’s you who pulls him closer, crossing your arms behind his neck and pressing your plush body against his.

You kiss, lick, suck, bite so much that your lips get scalding and swollen, and Atsumu wonders if this was the actual, true reason why he was put on this Earth.

His hands are impatient, tracing lines along your body and stopping here and there so that he can feel all of you.

You press yourself against him, the gaps between your bodies closing as your chest heaves against his.

Ah, I can’t wait any more.

Atsumu grabs you by the thighs and hoists you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask, giggling.

“We’re going to my room.” He replies matter-of-factly as he starts moving, eliciting a squeak out of you.

“Weren’t you only going to do that if I told you to stop?” Your question is accompanied by a wide, absolutely beautiful grin.

Atsumu stops in his tracks and raises his gaze, waiting. It’s very amusing to see you still, hands on his shoulders, your nose scrunching as you try to figure out why he stopped moving.

Then, with the worst acting skills that he’s ever seen, you exclaim, “Oh no, stop! What about the pancakes?!”

Both of you burst into laughter. Luckily, you didn’t choose acting as your career. He’s afraid no amount of practice could help.

As he starts walking again, a silly smile on his face, your legs tighten around his waist.

He only lets you down once you’re in his room, and places you right in front of the bed.

He’s conflicted. There is so much he wants to do and so little he can do right this moment. If only I could clone myself.

His thoughts are interrupted by your hands reaching for his hoodie and pulling him close. Between kisses, Atsumu realises how assertive you’ve got now that the two of you are an item. He loves it.

With his lips on yours and his hands happily grabbing your ass, only one part of him is fussing, but very soon, as if reading his mind, your hand starts wandering south, offering relief to his starved state.

Up and down, slowly, you caress him through the fabric. He lets out a little moan in your mouth. You moan back, your voice a hair-raising blend of satisfaction and lust.

So fucking hot.

Atsumu brings his hands closer, brushing your sides with the pads of his fingers before letting his palms rest against your chest, the softness making his brain short-circuit.

As his hand goes down, reaching where it’s warmest, your chest heaves and your tongue gets sloppy.

Atsumu smirks against your lips.

Then he starts lazily sliding his fingers, up and down, up and down, in sync with your movements, relishing in the little sounds you make until your clothes start to feel like an insult to reason. He breaks contact, quickly removing his hoodie and t-shirt by pulling them from the neck, followed by his pants, all haphazardly thrown on the floor. Then he pulls your clothes off too, leaving you — almost — splendidly naked.

“This goes off too,” he says, pulling at your bra hooks and swiftly getting rid of it.

He makes you sit on the bed and kneels before you, grinning at the way your eyes set on his. There’s a strange pride raising in him as he notices how you’re unable to pull away from him.

You whimper softly when his mouth reaches your chest, enveloping the most sensitive part in a wet embrace. He flicks his tongue, relishing the way your body responds to his, then sucks, then moves south, placing gentle kisses and letting himself melt into your softness.

And this all while his left hand rests on your hip, his thumb brushing against your iliac crest, and his right hand tasting the softness of your other breast.

You’re a beautiful mess.

You’re very sensitive there, he knows it well, and the way you react to his ministrations has his buddy down there push harder against his boxers. He would definitely lie if he said that what he’s doing, he’s doing just for you.

Slowly, you lean forward, brushing his shoulders with your hands, and then slide them down along his arms, tracing his muscles with your fingers pads and finally reaching his hips. A hand moves on to his boxers and cups his length. “What about you?” You ask, your voice just a murmur.

His eyes flutter shut as he leans into your gentle touch, and he turns a little to meet your lips, kissing you deeply. Then he takes your hands in his, getting up and pressing his body against yours slowly until you’re lying on the bed.

You’re both on your knees, one impatient body in front of the other.

His gaze falls to your hand as it slides under the elastic band of his boxers. It’s so warm, but not as warm as you are where his own hand goes to rest.

“Ahh,” he sighs at the matching contact.

You lean into him and meet his lips, and he happily reciprocates the kiss, waiting for your bottom lip to be caged between his teeth before he slides his finger inside you. Your moans crack as he skilfully finds your magical spot, and seeing how you melt under his touch, how your legs grow weak, sends a heatwave across his body.

Isn’t it ridiculous how good it feels? His boxers already down his thighs, you circle the tip of his cock with your thumb, slowly. Atsumu cups your face with his free hand and slides his own thumb along your lips, and you part them, rounding them in an “o” and sucking his finger.

It might be an innate extra sensitivity, or it might be the countless hours spent examining every single sensation in his digits as a way to improve his grip on the ball, but he loves this. He’s kinda tempted to have you suck all of his fingers, one at a time, for like, a really long time.

His train of thought is interrupted when you start sliding your hand up and down along his cock, your movements deliberately slow, sensual. You stop here and there, too wrapped in your own pleasure to focus as he starts increasing his pace. He makes sure not to miss a beat, relentlessly hitting your sweet spot, forcing you to break the kiss and lean on his shoulder, hot moans only partly muffled by his naked skin.

Your voice comes out in waves — louder, choked, louder again.

As you reach your ecstasy, your grip on his cock tightens, and Atsumu manages to hold himself back by a hair’s-breadth.

You leave the crook of his neck to meet his gaze with heavy lids, trying to find a regular breathing rhythm again, and he would let you if only he didn’t feel like he’s about to explode.

“Turn around.” He says, voice coming out low, husky.

He jumps off the bed and positions himself behind you, sliding your underwear down and gently but firmly pressing your back so that you lean forward and expose your perfect curves. With a hand on your ass, Atsumu leans forward, his mouth close to your ear. “You ready, peach?”

Your skin covers in goosebumps. “Yeah,” you reply weakly.

He stands back up and draws his hips near yours, aligning himself to you as he takes in your tempting curves.

Then, he’s finally inside you.

You’re tight, as expected after reaching your high, so he moves slowly, a hand on the small of your back and his fingers lovingly tracing a line along your spine.

Holding back from just thrusting his hips all the way takes Atsumu more willpower than he’d like to admit, but he’s soon rewarded for his patience, your walls relaxing and inviting him in a scalding embrace.

His hands gather at your hips, keeping them in place as he starts to pound into you, his fingers sinking in your soft skin.

It’s noisy. The smack of his hips against your ass echoes in his room, accompanied by what can’t be other than music to his ears. He loves to hear you moan. He loves your voice, and he loves the idea of being the one who’s making you lose yourself in bliss like that.

He slows down a little, taking in every small sensation: his feet pressing on the floor, his legs and glutes tensing up at every thrust, his chest heaving, his palms warm against your skin, his lids heavy, his skin hot.

You turn your head back a little, meeting his eyes, showing him a weak smile through shallow inhales and exhales. Atsumu smiles back, his eyes glued to yours until your arms give in and you fall to your elbows, face resting on your forearms as he starts to pick up the pace again.

Your plush body, your wavering voice, the way you take him in so well… it’s inebriating, and Atsumu lets it all wash over him, soaking in the lust that flows between your bodies and hearts.

You start tightening, your voice rises in pitch, and he groans, doing his best to keep doing exactly what he was doing until now. “‘Tsumu,” you call. Your voice is kind of whiny, kind of desperate. It’s the type of voice that makes him feel like there’s no limit to what he can do, and what he wants to do right now is give you exactly what you want.

You reach a hand back, looking for his. He grabs your forearm and takes a firmer grasp of your hip with his other hand, keeping you in place as he pounds into you. “Yeah, go ahead, peach, cum for me,” he coos.

And just like that, with revering compliance, you reach your second high, and Atsumu feels stupidly proud. He does not, however, give you a little break, as he should have, because he’s darningly close to his own climax, and when you turn your face toward him, a tired, content smile on your face, Atsumu burns in your incandescent embrace. His whole body contracts as he gives his last sloppy thrusts, a low “fffuck” accompanying his movements until his muscles finally decide to let go.

Your breathing is heavy and fills the room like a soothing haze.

Slowly, your lungs and hearts find a calmer rhythm.

Atsumu chuckles as he pulls out.

You turn, sitting up. “What?” You ask, your brows just a little knitted over your serene eyes.

“Nothin’,” Atsumu says as he cups your face. “ Just though it’s not a bad way to start the day,” he explains, a cheeky smile on his face.

You roll your eyes dramatically, your hands going to rest on his sides. “Well, I can’t disagree with that,” you say while averting your gaze.

Then, a chuckle spreads between the both of you, followed by Atsumu leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ll have to take another shower,” you say when he straightens up, your tone a mixture of complaining and teasing.

Atsumu takes your hand in his. “Together?”

A little pause, a grin, and then you’re jogging toward the bathroom, pulling him along with you.Not bad at all, Atsumu thinks before closing the door behind him.

15. The inexplicable mood of the setter (Bokuto)

“Watch out!!!” Bokuto’s serve very nearly crashes against Atsumu’s head.

It’s a matter of centimetres, and his heart skips a beat as he imagines the setter’s skull crack like the eggshells he broke at breakfast this morning.

Another beat is then lost at the anticipation of Atsumu’s reaction. He’s not exactly renowned for his patience and Bokuto hates it when people yell at him. But no yelling follows. Atsumu shouts “All good!” and resumes whatever weird routine he’s been practicing this week. It has something to do with counting steps and giving a specific spin to the ball. A new kind of spin, apparently.

“Well, would you look at that,” Meian comments, coming near Bokuto. “Who gave him the happy syrup today?”

Bokuto really needs to find out why his captain uses weird expressions like that. He feels a bit shy asking him directly, though.

Hinata draws close too, a low hum making his presence known. “I also heard him singing earlier.”

“Doesn’t he always sing?” Bokuto asks. He can distinctly remember Atsumu singing while tying his shoes. Or while going over the next match schemes. Or while showering.

“Yeah, but he’s doing it more,” Hinata explains.

The three of them stand there, staring at their setter, just like those meerkats Bokuto saw in a documentary he watched with Akaashi the other day.Soon enough, they are called back to their duties by Sakusa, a tsk following his reprimand.

16. Unwavering support (Atsumu)

Just as Atsumu was about to fall asleep, an obnoxiously loud ding scares the shit out of him. He forgot to put his phone on silent mode. Again.

With a groan, he turns, pulling the covers with him, and extends his arm, blindly looking for the damn thing.

It takes his eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the outrageous brightness of the screen.

dickhead > congratulations

“Uh?” Atsumu sinks in the bed again, phone in hand.

Atsumu > what for?

dickhead > for finally getting a girlfriend

“Uh??” Atsumu groans.

Atsumu > wth? what do you know?!

dickhead > shōyō and bokkun wrote to ask why you’re in such a good mood lately. both of them. independently.

dickhead > i-dont-do-dating, my ass

Atsumu groans again. He’s not sure how he feels right now. He’s partly annoyed that he didn’t even get to announce the thing himself. And did he really show his good mood that much? Is he really so easy to read? And why does his brother have to give him shit for every single thing?!

At the same time, he also can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. Not only did he get a girlfriend — a funny, cute, hot girlfriend. He got a girlfriend while his brother is all alone with his onigiri. Ah! Sometimes life is fair.

Atsumu > at least i’m gettin some action 😎

dickhead > ur a clown

Normally, Atsumu would feel offended, but today he doesn’t care. He’s the winner.

17. Good News and friends betrayed (You)

“So, to what do we owe the honour?” After taking a sip of her drink, Mao, with a knowing look, eyes the several dishes of fuming food spread out on the table.

“You ordered so much stuff!” Shōyō says in awe, his fork hesitating midair as he tries to figure out what to try first.

“Well, it’s been a while since the three of us went out like this.” As you try to figure out how to best phrase what you’re going to say next, your fingers find harbour in your napkin.

With a raise of her brows, Mao prompts you to continue.

“And I had something I wanted to share with you both.”

Shōyō’s attention, before resting on a plate filled to the brim with fries, turns to you.

Ah, those impossibly round puppy eyes.

You inhale deeply, and then release the air forcefully, trying to make your unnecessary anxiety follow the flow outside your body.

“Atsumu and I are dating,” you say in one breath.

“Uh?!?!”

You already knew Shōyō’s reactions can be… intense, but this one was so loud that most of the people sitting around you turned their heads, and you futilely try to sink into the wooden chair.

“How?!” Shōyō asks.

“Well…”

“Congratulations!” Mao chimes in. She’s a lighthouse in the night, and you’re going to fucking moth your way to her.

“Thanks,” you say, your eyes grateful. “If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be second-guessing every single thing.”

“No, no, no.” Shōyō is not going to have it. “You need to explain. When did this even happen?”

Well, you guess you kind of owe him an explanation. “We met at that party you invited me to and…” This is so hard. “You know how I told you I had met a friend and talked with them and that was why I kind of disappeared that night?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it was actually— I was actually talking with him.”

You know he would never speak in those terms, but you could take a photo of Shōyō right now and caption it ‘the audacity of this bitch’.

18. Taking it like a good sport (You)

“So? Did it go well?” Atsumu asks with his eyes closed as he rests his head on your lap.

He’s sprawled on his dorm room bed as you rest your back on the wall, a pillow softening its hardness. It’s fairly quiet, except for the strumming of a guitar somewhere down the corridor.

“Yeah. Shōyō was a bit shocked at first, but he seemed alright.”

“Shocked? Why would he be shocked?”

“Well…” you make an embarrassed smile. “He said he thought I was into another kind of man.”

“A different kind of— What kind of man was he talking about?!”

“Someone reliable. A bit more serious. And humble.”

“The hell? I’m super reliable! I’m the most reliable guy out of the entire team!”

A laugh makes its way through you, making Atsumu’s head bob on your lap.

“What?!” he says, offended. Or, well, he’s just acting offended, right?

“You really went and threw the humble part out of the window, didn’t you?” Atsumu lets out a displeased groan, but you ignore it and continue, “Well, at least we’re done sharing the news.”

“Well…” Atsumu’s voice comes out so high-pitched he might as well have been Spongebob.

“What?”

“There are a couple other people who will probably make a fuss once they know, but I don’t really want to have a one-on-one with them.”

“Is it really such a big deal?” you ask, amused. As you wait for his answer, your focus shifts to Atsumu’s scalp, and you stroke it gently.

Atsumu leans into your touch and then reaches a hand behind your neck, making you lean forward.

It’s absolutely ridiculous that you still haven’t gotten used to the way he kisses you. Is he going to take your breath away for the rest of your life?

You stiffen lightly as you realise the implications of what you’ve just thought and shoo the thought away with a quick shake of your head.

“Hmm,” you say as you try to put some space between the two of you. “‘Tsumu, I need to go in, like, 10 minutes.” You barely get the words out before Atsumu pulls you closer and deepens the kiss, shamelessly ignoring what you just said.

It’s only after he’s got your chest heaving that he reluctantly lets you go. “Don’t go,” he pleads.

You remember for a moment your new year’s resolution of becoming more assertive.

You also remember that you have an early class tomorrow and you should already be in bed — your bed — sleeping.

Oh well, isn’t youth supposed to be the period of fun and bad choices?

“Okay,” you say, and lean forward again, letting yourself fall into another breathtaking kiss.

19. Clever intuitions and wild guesses (You)

“I knew it!” Bokuto exclaims, triumph clear in his voice. Despite him being at the opposite side of the table, the vibration when he lowers his fists is so strong it travels all the way to you.

“Well, it’s not like they were hiding it well,” Osamu comments, his gaze never leaving his food. The way he eats almost looks…. religious.

“I actually knew it,” Shōyō chimes in, a chirpy expression on his face. He can get competitive about the strangest things.

“What? You did?” Asks Bokuto. Indignation creeps in on his face, and takes a hold of lips and brow.

“We just wanted to wait for a little bit before telling everybody, but Shōyō’s my best friend, so…” you leave the phrase hanging.

Bokuto mulls over it for a moment, then smiles. “So in the end, my theory was correct.”

“Uh?”

“I did notice, of course, that the two of you were spending a whole lot of time together during the camping trip,” he says, smugness tinting his features. Is he really trying to imitate Sherlock Holmes right now?

The space between your eyebrows creases. “Wait… Is that what you guys were talking about behind the grills?!”

“What?” says Bokuto.

“You noticed?” says Shōyō.

“Well, you kept staring at me,” you reply with a small shrug.

You look at your two friends blushing like idiots now that they know they did not, in fact, go unnoticed, but soon enough your attention is solicited by someone else.

Oikawa, who’s been introduced to you a couple of weeks ago, but already acts as if you’ve known each other since forever, props himself with his elbows on the table, squints his eyes, and stares at you in a way that makes you freeze on the spot. “But y/n-chan, did he coerce you?” he finally asks.

“Did I what now?” Atsumu asks, his voice squeaky.

Meanwhile, your confusion evolves into a laugh.

“It means you forced her,” Oikawa replies, his tone condescending as he leans his head a bit to the left.

“I know what it means, idiot,” Atsumu glares at him. “Of course I didn’t. Who do you take me for?” he adds.

Oikawa ignores him with practiced indifference. “So?” He asks you with a slight wiggle of his brows. “Did he?”

You notice movement to your left and instinctively reach your arm in front of Atsumu, stopping him from climbing over the table and punching his friend in the face.

“I bet on blackmail,” chips in Osamu.

“Blackmail?” Shōyō asks, shocked.

“I bet on a scam,” says Oikawa.

“That would be you,” retorts Iwaizumi.

He’d been so silent until now his reply is all the more cutting, and the whole tableful burst into laughter.

“Iwa-chaaaan!” whines Oikawa.

“Serves you right!” exclaims Atsumu, scolding Oikawa with a mocking look. He looks stupidly childish, and you’re half-rolling your eyes half-chuckling when your gazes meet and he blows a kiss in your direction.

“Aww, look at her smiling,” Oikawa comments, skillfully shifting the attention back to you.

Your smile vanishes as overconsciousness arises. Sly bastard.

“Well, that smile definitely rules out blackmail,” Oikawa announces, shooting a knowing look at Osamu.

“I swear, if you keep up with this bullshit, I’ll whack you on the face,” threatens Atsumu.

“Not my beautiful face!” squeals Oikawa, who’s promptly made fun of by the entire table.

This is definitely going to be a lively night.

20. Up and down and up we go (Atsumu) (About four years later)

Today’s a special day, and Atsumu feels hyped.

He also feels like he might need to puke, but he immediately pushes that feeling back to oblivion. He has no intention of screwing this up.

It’s alright. He’s got this.

He takes a big breath in and then lets it all out, finally having a proper look around him. Trees are in flower, the sun is finally starting to properly warm up the air, and the lake is calm. Some ducks float here and there, looking for fish or doing that funny thing they do when they clean their feathers. And on the dock, there’s you.

It’s that dock. The one where he asked you out exactly four years ago. You’re sitting at the end of it, shoes at your side as you splash water with your feet. It’s a beautiful day. No more than you, though.

Atsumu reaches you slowly, his trepidation soothed by the serene view. Everything feels just right.

“I’m back,” he says, quietly, so as not to startle you. Not this time.

“Hey!” You turn and beam a smile at him. That’s definitely a good start.

“Sorry for the wait. I got stopped by two guys with absolutely no sense of direction.”

“And they asked you?” You chuckle.

“Why not?”

“Poor guys, they must be in a pit somewhere by now,” you tease.

“Hey! What are you talking about?” Atsumu knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he would never admit it.

“May I remind you that we are both completely inept at giving directions? Last time someone asked for our help, they literally waved goodbye mid-explanation because they were getting even more confused.”

“That’s their problem, not mine,” Atsumu scoffs. “But anyway, turn to the lake and close your eyes,” he asks, nonchalantly placing himself behind you.

“What? Why?” you ask, a suspicious but intrigued smile warming your face.

“Just trust me, will ya?”

“Okay, okay,” you say with a chuckle. “You better not push me into the lake. It’s way too cold for that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, making you snort because you know very well he’s not only dreamt of it, but he has done it on more than one occasion.

He checks that you are still and not peeking, then takes an envelope out of his jacket and places it on your lap.

“Okay, you can open your eyes again.” As he says that, Atsumu takes off his shoes in a swift motion and sits next to you, dropping his feet into the cold water.

You lower your gaze, look at the envelope, and then turn toward him, puzzled. “What’s this?”

“An envelope, duh?” Atsumu baits you.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” you say with a slight, playful roll of your eyes.

“It’s a gift,” he concedes.

“But we’ve already exchanged gifts this morning.”

“Yes, but this is for a different reason.”

Your confused reaction is way too adorable.

“Come on, open it,” he prompts.

You shoot him a you-didn’t-have-to smile and carefully open the envelope, taking off the two pieces of glossy paper inside it.

“Are these— yeah, they’re tickets for that amusement park we went to on our first real date!” Your eyes scan through them excitedly. “When are we going?”

Atsumu nods toward the tickets. “Look at the corner,” he says. “There,” he adds, leaning close and pointing at a small, black text.

“Lifetime access,” you mumble. The space between your eyebrows creases. With an uncertain smile, you turn toward him again, a silent question lingering in your gaze.

“So?” Atsumu asks, a sly smirk covering up the clench in his stomach. He’s quite positive you’ll say yes. You must say yes. You two are doing great. There’s no reason for you to not say yes.

“Are you…” You start to reply but seem to lose your words as different feelings fight to emerge on your face. Excitement, incredulity, joy, doubt… “Is this your way of asking me to—” You halt mid-sentence.

To think that you would let doubts get the best of you in a moment like this. Atsumu bursts out laughing, his hand automatically reaching for his belly as he shakes in amusement. He has to let it all out before he regains some composure, and he turns to you, who patiently waited for him with an unsure expression.

“Okay,” Atsumu says with a big, I’m-gonna-focus-now breath. “I’m asking you what you think I’m asking you.” He turns a little more to face you better and examines your face. A loose strand of hair sways in front of you, and he catches it and gently tucks it behind your ear. Then, with his hand cupping your cheek, he grins so wide that he can feel his cheeks pulling. “What do you say about spending the rest of our lives together?”

He thought his words would have dissipated any hesitation you might have had, but you remain frozen for some long seconds, to the point Atsumu thinks he might have broken you or something. He’s about to wave his hand in front of you when you finally beam him a wide, toothy smile. “Yes! I do! I think I do!”

“What do you mean, ‘I think I do’?!” he complains.

“No, I do! I just do!” You look like you’re about to cry. It’s very funny. You look happy. Atsumu feels happy too. So much that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Then you basically charge at him, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Atsumu returns the hug with equal strength, and you start laughing.

“What is it?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t know. I’m just… I didn’t expect this. But it feels — it feels right.”

Atsumu chuckles. It seems that great minds truly think alike. He leans left and pulls you with him on the creaky wooden beams of the dock, making your feet raise mid-air and shoot water droplets everywhere. Then he loosens his hold just enough for you both to lie on your backs. You move your head close to his, knocking it lightly and chuckling. After a deep breath, you both turn to look at the immaculate blue sky, silly smiles still on your faces.

Atsumu might not know a lot of things, but of this he’s sure: a whole life with you by his side will be a damn good life.

With a satisfied sigh, he turns and gives you a kiss on the temple before caging you in the tightest hug he’s ever given.

The End