The Consequences of Dating Miya Atsumu
This is one of my lil submissions for @crybabycrisis' Honeymoon Avenue Event. I'm going to post the Tsukishima one right after this. Sorry sorry it's so late. I literally just wrote the date down in my planner wrong because I have a tiny, smooth brain.
Notes/Warnings: None <3! All fluff! Lmk if you want/need something tagged
Word Count: 812
There are consequences for your actions. Choosing to date Miya Atsumu, Star Setter for the MSBY Black Jackals has many consequences.
Your favorite consequence is that you’re never alone. Atsumu is always by your side, whenever you call. His arms are around you at night, or he’s on FaceTime whining about how stupid it is that a losing team made him fly out, away from you, just for the privilege of being crushed like they knew they would be.
You love FaceTime Atsumu. He’s soft and whiny and desperate to remind you that he would much rather be with you. He’s so appreciative that, although you both know he’d always choose you over his career, you’ve never made him make that choice.
But you love Atsumu, even more, when he’s with you. The Star Setter for the Black Jackals dissolves, and you’re left with just.. Miya Atsumu. Chaotic and messy. He’s not a confident flirt, he’s a bashful idiot who flusters himself more often than he flusters you. He’s not the strongest man in the world. He’s weak to you and painfully gentle with you. His voice isn’t clear and cocky, his smirk isn’t there, he stutters and mumbles and pouts and his real smile… is infinitely better than the practiced one he has in interviews. He is just as proud. The same pride he has in his jersey is the pride he has when he wears the sweater you bought him so he could match with you. The same pride he has in his team is the pride he has when he gets to have you by his side. You are his team. His tribe. It’s you and him against the world and he never wants it any other way.
The worst consequence of dating Miya Atsumu is that you’re never alone. When he proudly posts a picture of you on his Instagram, there are thousands of comments, and the ones that stick are never the kind, respectful ones. Having tough skin means only the sharpest words get through. When you’re out with him, there are always people taking pictures. Pictures that were often put on covers of ads for trashy websites with lame headlines boasting unfounded lies meant to boost their clicks. Fame was something you never craved. And while Atsumu looks damn good in the limelight, it frustrates and exhausts you that you have to share it with him. Atsumu always asks before posting about the two of you, but he loves it too much. You can’t say no. He’s aware of the toll it takes on you, so he always stops you from reading comments, and he doesn’t tag you in anything. But how can help himself, when he is the luckiest person alive? He has to show you off. It’s who he is.
But right now, you don’t mind. You hear a few camera shutters behind you and you can’t stop smiling. You don’t mind because this time, the pictures are welcomed. You paid for these photos. Atsumu is swinging your held hands as the two of you walk along the sand, ocean spray misting your side, photographer close behind.
“Alright, I think we have enough of those. Want to take a look?”
Atsumu is a bit too excited and ends up tugging you over to the photographer. Most of them are just silhouettes, which is exactly what you wanted. Atsumu twirling you on the beach. Photos of the two of you walking together, footprints behind you being washed away by the tide, sunset in the back of every photo.
“I love them,” you whisper to Atsumu.
“They’re perfect. We look pretty good don’t we?” He says, smiling down at you.
“Do you want to pose so we can see the ring?”
Atsumu pouts at the photographer, “But I don’t wanna let go of their hand.”
Another consequence of being with this man is the endless embarrassment he brings. You slap his chest softly, “How should we pose?”
The photographer has you face each other, shifting you a few times to make sure the sun is positioned behind you both in the photo. He guides Atsumu’s hands to your waist, yours around his neck, hands delicately resting on his shoulders so the ring is clear in the shot.
Click.
Atsumu smirks at you.
Click.
Your ringed hand slides through his hair.
Click.
And he dips down, and you get to kiss your fiance, while he holds you, one of your legs sliding up his as water tickles your bare feet. That’s the best consequence of dating Miya Atsumu.
Click. Click. Click.
And now you have it saved forever.
Atsumu posts that photo, as well as the one of him twirling you on his Instagram. And you don’t mind the limelight. Nothing can compare to showing off to everyone that you and Miya Atsumu are each other’s forevers.
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she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let
and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment
and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.
and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment
and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?
to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.
and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.
you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.
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While I love Steve having a kid that's a nerd, my favorite is if his kid is just like him. He's popular even at 7, he's extroverted, funny, and charming albeit a little strange. He loves sports and struggles in math and doesn't really get english and gets scolded when he laughs in history—sue him he thought it was funny—and has a tendency to get detention but also is somehow a teachers pet all at once.
He has a tendency for feminine things, makes it his own with earrings and the occasional pink flower print shirt.
He begs steve to not work on the car until he gets home from school, cause even at 5, he would rather climb over the fence and run home by himself then learn his dad worked on the cool car without him.
He loves driving and cooking and dancing and loves swimming—aunt Robbie calls him a variety of aquatic animals instead of his name; minnow, fish, stingray, tigershark. Anything went.
They look alike and act alike to the point robin laughs and claims Steve just cloned himself, Eddie says that the kid is actually just Steve brought to the future through time travel. Steve laughs, he loves it ofc but he's never pushed or forced it, it just happened that way.
But there's also times, where Steve sees his son, so like him with big tears in his eyes trying to be tough. Or when all he wants is to sleep in the bed with Steve when he has a nightmare, wants his dad to kiss everything better, when he so easily seeks affection or struggles with school to the point he's getting stress migraines at 9, sees him try so hard to do his best and do what he does well. Sees him fail.
And when Steve sees this, he wonders if maybe he wasn't a bad kid. Didn't need to be tougher, manlier, smarter—better—to deserve love.
Just. Like. Steve seeing that he didn't need to be anything other than what he was. That he has no idea how his parents didn't love him bc how could he ever not love his kid? Just like its okay for him to be how he is and have a kid that a like him as well bc he's pretty great
And like. Its just that idea that Steve could only “heal his inner child” with a kid that's different then him or a girl is kind of sad that it's only that what if him and his son go to every game and constantly have grease on them what then.
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