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tsumusamu · 4 years

Text

call you mine iii [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 7.5k

warnings: slow burn, bad writing (it’s been a while since i’ve written something), mild sexual language/references

part one / part two / part three (you are here) / part four

IMPORTANT: OLD READERS, I’VE ADDED AROUND 2K WORDS TO THE WHOLE FIC WHICH IS JUST EXTRA DETAILS! NO MAJOR PLOT CHANGES BUT FEEL FREE TO REREAD THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE ADDITIONS I MADE!

content under the cut!

Three months.

Three months have passed since that night on which you had dragged Miya Atsumu's stupid, drunken ass into your apartment.

You haven't seen him much lately. The Jackals are on a winning streak and their practices are as intense as ever, and Atsumu has never quite been the type to make time for much else besides the sport he adores the most.

You, on the other hand, have semester exams coming up. These exams are critical; they're your second-to-last exams before you graduate from university and you know you have to do well. You've devoted your time to your thick textbooks and color-coded notes, your thoughts constantly filled with numbers and letters and random Biology facts (it's not easy to be peacefully laying in bed at night only to jolt to alertness by suddenly remembering that phospholipids have a hydrophilic head and hydrophobic tails).

Mika has even joked that at this point, you're probably ready to marry your textbooks. And given how non-existent your love life is, (to be fair, you do reject the attention of every male who comes too close to you because you're sadly very much in love with your best friend) you're starting to think that it might be a possibility. Mika's offered several times to set you up on blind dates, but you'd refused every proposal because you're simply too caught up in your studies and your idiot of a best friend to even think about dating someone else.

Atsumu clearly doesn't remember that night, but you definitely do. You simply cannot forget the way he looked at you with genuine love, affection, and a hint of desire. You also can't help but think about how that same expression crossed had his face the next morning (although you still think you were seeing things). Every time you recall those interactions, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through your entire being.

But you know that it meant nothing. Drunkenness can make you do odd things; you know you have to come to terms with the fact that it's all just probably just in your head.

Still, you do miss Atsumu. He finally fulfilled his promise of treating you to ramen just last week, but you haven't seen him since. You're thinking about dropping into a practice of his one of these days, but your lack of free time as of late has prevented you from doing so.

Speaking of free time, you really wish you had some on this Friday afternoon.

You grimace at the sweat dripping down your neck as you hurriedly scoop batter into the muffin tin, preparing to bake a new batch. Your boss is off yelling at another employee across the kitchen for frosting some cupcakes incorrectly, but her piercing, ringing voice carries itself into the ears of all people within a ten-mile radius. One of your coworkers drops a sack of flour, creating a dusty, white cloud that grabs your boss's attention as she turns to start screaming at the flour-dropper instead. The cashier at the front laughs nervously as the customers exchange nervous looks upon hearing the chaos coming from the kitchen.

You know you should be used to the chaos that comes from working at this small bakery, Tokyo Treats, but every time you have a shift you end up having to take painkillers for the throbbing headache that never fails to present itself thirty minutes into your job.

Why don't you just quit and find another job? Well, that's easier said than done. You're a college student with no degrees yet and Tokyo is a big, busy city. It's difficult to find job openings, and thus, you can't afford to let go of this one. In fact, you're thinking of picking up another job; sometimes you end up not having enough to pay rent at the end of the month and you hate asking Mika to chip in extra for the remainder that you can't afford.

"(L/N)!" You jump at the sound of your boss shrieking at you. "Get those muffins in the oven this instant! Hurry up!"

"Yes, ma'am!" you respond immediately, and she gives you a scathing look before going off to lecture someone else. You thank the heavens that she left you alone (despite having worked here for almost two years now, you still can't exactly handle your boss's wrath) before quickly filling the rest of the muffin tin and shoving it into the oven. You hardly have a chance to bat an eyelash before your boss yells again,

"(L/N)! Suzuki's shift is over! Man the register!"

Great. Social interaction.

"Yes, ma'am!" you say again with fake cheer in an attempt to mask your reluctance, untying your apron and removing your gloves. You make a slight attempt to fix your hair, which had been thrown into a sloppy ponytail to keep it out of your face, but your boss starts shouting again so you settle with just retying the ponytail into a neater state.

As you step out of the kitchen towards the register, your coworker, Suzuki, gives you a small wave in passing, which you return. You step up to the register and smile brightly at your first customers of the day, a young mother and her little son.

"Hello, what can I get for you today?"

Five hours later, it's a bit past 9 PM and you're almost done with your shift as the bakery is about to close. You're the only employee left in the store, as the kitchen staff had left about fifteen minutes prior. It's up to you to close the store for the night. You fight to keep your eyes open, absolutely exhausted, as fewer and fewer people show up as time ticks on. There's no one here at the moment, and maybe it wouldn't hurt if you closed your eyes for a bit.... Just ten more minutes, you remind yourself, right as the door opens with a jingle.

You straighten up, ready to greet the customer.

"Hey," a familiar voice enters your ears. You give a start, your hazy vision suddenly turning razor-sharp with focus as you zero in on the face in front of you. A face that you haven't seen in person for way too long.

You freeze on the spot, your mouth dropping open in utter shock.

"'Samu?!" Once you recover from your initial surprise, a wide, excited smile of pure, unadulterated joy lights up your features as you quickly move to rush around the counter towards Miya Osamu. You never realize how much you miss Osamu until the occasional visits he makes to Tokyo twice a year or so.

"How ya doin', scrub?" Osamu chuckles softly as you wrap yourself around him tightly, burying your face in his chest. He returns your embrace with one arm, ruffling your hair affectionately with his free hand.

"Missed ya. I always do. Yer comin' ta visit less often, lately," you mumble, your Kansai accent suddenly making a full-force appearance. After four years of living in Tokyo, your accent had pretty much disappeared (the same could definitely not be said about Atsumu, who's been in this area for the same period as you have), but at times, especially when you're emotional, it decides to sneak right back into your tone of voice.

"Hmm." Osamu hums. "What if I told ya 'm here to scope out a potential place for a Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya?" You immediately look up at him in eager anticipation.

"Really?!" you exclaim.

"Really," he confirms with a proud grin.

"Congrats, 'Samu. Yer business is really hittin' it off. Guess 'm not surprised, yer cookin' has always been great." You playfully pinch his cheek, and Osamu scoffs while he half-heartedly swats your hand away.

"Got somethin' ta do tonight? Could catch up over a er — " He pauses to glance at the clock. "Late dinner."

"I'd like that." Still smiling out of the happiness of seeing your childhood friend (it's been a year, hasn't it? You had been out on a school trip last time he came to visit), you reluctantly let go of Osamu. "Give me a minute to clean up." You return to your place behind the counter, locking up the register and removing the leftover baked goods from the glass display cases. You figure you'll take some of the extras home to Mika; she's always had a big sweet tooth.

After wiping down the tables in the bakery and making sure everything's in order and where it needs to be (your boss is always the first one into the store in the morning and she will definitely chew you out knowing that you were the one to close up if you made any sort of error), you finally leave for the day, Osamu right by your side.

"Whatcha feelin' tonight?" Osamu asks, snorting loudly when your stomach suddenly growls viciously.

"Dunno... was gonna say ramen but 'Tsumu and I just had some last week," you reply, ignoring his teasing laughter.

"Hmm, how 'bout an onigiri place? Need ta know my competition," Osamu suggests dutifully, and you decide to humor him.

"There's one close by here, I think it's pretty good."

"Not as good as Onigiri Miya, is it?"

"Well..." You pause and hesitate, which makes Osamu pout childishly.

"C'mon, ya know nothin' will be as good as my onigiri," he whines.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." You giggle when Osamu's thick eyebrows draw together in mock-hurt. You really have missed him.

The two of you end up going to a small onigiri restaurant a few blocks away from the bakery. An elderly woman greets you and Osamu with a cheery smile.

"(Y/N)! Welcome back! It's been a while since you last paid us a visit."

"Hi, Mrs. Akiyama! How are you and your husband doing?"

"Oh, we're doing just fine." Mrs. Akiyama leads you and Osamu to a table and gets you settled. You don't miss the way that she's looking back and forth between you and Osamu in a suggestive manner, and when Osamu's occupied with checking out the menu, you aggressively shake your head. Mrs. Akiyama only laughs, clearly not believing you.

"How's life been?" Osamu quips lazily after Mrs. Akiyama takes your orders to her husband, who's the head chef.

"Stressful." You take a sip of the complimentary green tea the restaurant offers. "Got exams soon. All I've been doing is studying."

"So, nothing new," he says plainly. Osamu laughs out-loud when you angrily pout and throw an empty straw wrapper at him.

"What about you, if your life is so interesting?" you retort.

"Onigiri Miya's doing pretty well, so like I mentioned before, a Tokyo branch is probably gonna happen soon." He grins. "And as much as I like that little ol' lady, she better watch out."

"You haven't even eaten the onigiri yet," you point out with a snort.

"Touché," Osamu responds mildly. "Oh, and also, Rintarou and I made it official last week." Your mouth drops open in shock, but you quickly recover as your initial surprise is replaced with joy.

"Finally!" you exclaim, eagerly clasping your hands together. "Congrats, 'Samu!"

"Yeah, 'finally'," Osamu agrees, chuckling lowly. "What about you and 'Tsumu, hmm?" You blink a few times in confusion; you weren't prepared for that sudden question.

"W-What?" you stutter intelligently. Your feel your cheeks start to heat up.

"Oh, so yer still crushin' on his dumb ass after all." Osamu laughs. "Was wonderin' if ya were, since ya hadn't even brought him up all this time."

"Whadda ya mean?" you snap. "Yer not makin' sense." Osamu smirks slightly, clearly amused at how riled up you're getting. Your accent had even managed to slip back in.

"Back in high school you'd come and ask me if I thought 'Tsumu liked ya back literally every day." He rolls his eyes, and you scowl, angrily brandishing your napkin at him.

"I asked two or three times!"

"Yeah, a week."

"I'm going to throw this napkin at you."

"You do that."

You chuck the napkin at Osamu and he easily dodges, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. God, everyone always says Osamu is the 'nicer' twin but that can't be farther from the truth; he's just as obnoxious as Atsumu if not even more so because he's not as obvious about it.

"C'mon, (Y/N) ya gotta make a move already. It's been painful watchin' ya drool over him for years."

"I don't drool!"

"Mmhmm."

"You're literally the worst." You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "Look, I would say something, but we both know that I can't handle rejection."

"Who says you'll be rejected?" Osamu quips dryly. You stare at him like he's grown an extra head.

"Are you kidding? I'm the last person on Earth that he'll have romantic feelings for!"

"Yer really that dumb, huh?" He raises his eyebrows quizzically, which only frustrates you. Why is he being so oddly cryptic?

"What are you even talking about, 'Samu?" you groan.

"All 'm sayin' is that ya gotta do something already." Osamu gives you a look of slight pity. "Yer too good for 'Tsumu, anyway. Why are ya still hung up on him?"

"Believe me, I ask myself that all the time." You think back to last week, when one of your seatmates from your Chemistry lecture asked you on a date but you had immediately declined. He's a nice guy, and going out with him wouldn't have hurt. But you really couldn't bring yourself to be interested in dating right now. Not when person in question's not Atsumu.

"I say go for it, (Y/N). Ya might even be surprised at whatcha get out of it," says Osamu.

"I don't think being friendzoned will surprise me," you deadpan.

"C'mon, don't be like that. Besides, I wouldn't mind havin' ya as a sister-in-law." You almost fall out of your chair in surprise at Osamu's blunt statement, which earns a snarky chuckle from him.

"Your food's ready!" Mrs. Akiyama sing-songs playfully, holding two trays with your orders of onigiri on them. You feel your mouth water as she sets your tuna onigiri in front of you; you hadn't eaten since lunchtime and you're absolutely starving. You mumble a quick thanks before taking a huge bite. Osamu takes his sweet time to consider his own salmon onigiri, feeling its weight in his hand and peeking under the seaweed to observe the perfect triangular shape of the rice before eating a small, experimental bite. He chews slowly and thoughtfully, in stark contrast to the voracious way that you're devouring your own rice balls.

"Good," Osamu decides after eating a few more mouthfuls.

"I'm glad you're enjoying the food." Mrs. Akiyama's eyes sparkle. "You're Miya, right? (Y/N)'s boyfriend?" You almost choke on your rice; yes you've brought Atsumu here a few times but you're surprised that Mrs. Akiyama remembers his face and name. Maybe that's why she had thrown you that suggestive look when you had walked in with Osamu, Atsumu's carbon copy."Think yer talkin' 'bout my twin brother," Osamu replies easily.

"Oh. yes, I'm sorry! You two look exactly the same, except the hair." She laughs sheepishly, and Osamu shrugs it off; he's used to it.

"Nice onigiri," he compliments again. "The seasoning's excellent."

"Why, aren't you sweet!" You watch in amusement as Osamu singlehandedly wins the favor of Mrs. Akiyama with his positive critiques of the food. As you continue to eat your rice balls, your thoughts wander to what Osamu had said about finally confessing your feelings after so many years. Sure, maybe you have entertained the thought of admitting your feelings, but you don't think you'll ever have the guts to actually do it.

You glumly chew on your rice, head swimming with thoughts of what would happen if you tried. Probably Atsumu just laughing in your face and praising you for a funny joke before brushing it off. Or maybe he'd be disgusted and cut you out of his life (unlikely, really; you're just tired and when you're tired you tend to get dramatic). You don't even want to think about the possibility of him accepting and returning your feelings; you don't want to get your own imaginary hopes up.

"Why the long face?" Osamu questions after Mrs. Akiyama finishes fussing over how sweet and handsome he is (you had to refrain from rolling your eyes).

"Nothing." You quickly try to change the subject as you finish your last rice ball. "You're staying at 'Tsumu's apartment, right?" Osamu nods.

"Ya wanna swing by tonight?"

"Oh, I can't. I need to head home. I'm meeting with my study group tomorrow morning."

"On a Saturday?" he asks with a quirk of his brow. You shrug.

"I'm trying to graduate with good grades, 'Samu."

"'m sure ya could get more than just good grades with the amount of time ya spent studyin'. When was the last time ya did somethin' for yerself?"

"Hm." You stop and consider his words. It has been a while since you did anything besides study in your free hours.

"'Tsumu's probably not comin' home tonight so we could watch one of yer kiddie movies if ya want."

"They're not kiddie movies, they're masterpieces," you shoot back, defending your choice of Disney for almost every movie night you participate in.

"Yeah, yeah," Osamu replies, unimpressed. "So, ya comin' or not?"

"Fine," you agree. "Only if we can watch a Disney movie."

"Not again." Osamu groans, earning a wide grin from you.

"I'm joking, I'm down to watch anything," you say. "I just missed you lots, so you can pick."

"Alright, alright, we'll decide later." He then oh-so-affectionately messes up your hair, which causes you to yelp indignantly.

On your way to Atsumu's apartment, the two of you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks. The two of you load a basket with popcorn, chips, and candy, lugging the armfuls of snacks all the way back to Atsumu's place.

"Hold on," Osamu says as the elevator arrives on Atsumu's floor. "I gotta get the key, can ya hold these?" Without waiting for a response, he tosses his bags of snacks into your arms, causing them to pile up and above your head, blocking your vision.

"Gee, sure thing," you mumble sarcastically, stumbling a little as you follow Osamu down the hallways. He rummages in his pockets for a bit to retrieve the key, and continues towards Atsumu's apartment with you stumbling along awkwardly behind him.

Before Osamu could unlock the door, however, it swings open. Both you and Osamu jump, not expecting Miya Atsumu to be home, standing in the doorway in just his boxers. You're thankful that the snacks in your arms are able to cover how red your face turns.

"Holy shit, 'Samu, ya coulda told me you were on yer way home, ya gave me a heart attack." Atsumu rolls his eyes at his brother. He then shifts his gaze to you (you're still struggling with the bags of food). "...And ya coulda told me you were bringin' (Y/N)."

"Hey, 'Tsumu," you greet him from behind the pile of snacks.

"C'mon, 'Samu, why aren't ya helpin' her?" Atsumu snaps, taking some of the snacks out of your arms and bringing them into his apartment.

"'Cause I thought ya weren't home and I was gonna try ta unlock the door," Osamu replies matter-of-factly, also moving to help you out. "Why are ya home, anyway? I thought ya had plans with someone."

"Yeah, well, I cancelled," Atsumu replies rather ruefully. "She's kinda mad at me, but s'alright. Her friend's into me and she's way hotter."

"Why are ya lookin' sad when yer the one who dipped?" Osamu scoffs, resulting in a nonchalant grunt from Atsumu.

You tune their conversation out as you place the remaining snacks in the pile that the twins have made on the coffee table. You never quite got used to hearing about Atsumu's many girls.

"Besides," Atsumu continues, and you can suddenly feel his gaze on you. You really hope your face isn't still red, but based on the heat that remains in your cheeks, it probably is. "I was kinda hopin' ya would bring (Y/N) here, and I wouldn't want ta miss her dumbass." Despite the offensive name, you're definitely burning up now.

"'Tsumu — " you start, but you're cut off by Atsumu pulling you into his arms, burying your face in his broad chest and resting his chin atop your head. You fight back an embarrassed squeal; he's still shirtless and you were not ready for this. And the only thought going through your head as you relax in his grip is that you never want to leave his arms. "H-hey, what brought this on?" You ask as calmly as you can, hesitantly hugging him back and trying to keep a cool head without thinking about the hard, defined muscle of his chest under your cheek.

"Missed seein' ya, that's all." He noses at your hair, subtly breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo that his drunken self had liked so much. Man, you really never do stop thinking about that night, do you?

"It's only been a week," you remind him, and Atsumu just sighs.

"Was the longest week of my life," he confesses, tugging you even closer and holding you like you were some kind of teddy bear that he needs to cuddle for comfort. Your gut knots itself uncomfortably tight, and you think you can feel beads of nervous sweat start to form on your neck. "Ya know I always need ya around."

"W-Well, I'm here now," is all you can get out, still trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah." He removes one hand from your waist to bring his hand to your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Your breath hitches and his does too, and for a moment you simply lose yourself in the beautiful, chocolate brown pools of his eyes. "...Yer here."

"Ahem." Osamu coughs awkwardly, and you immediately try to back away but Atsumu holds you firmly. The loving look in his eyes is now replaced with irritation as he glares at his brother.

"C'mon 'Samu, read the room," he says irritably. He gives an annoyed grunt when you successfully detach yourself from him a few seconds later in his moment of distraction.

"So!" you interrupt cheerfully before Osamu can retort. "What movie should we watch tonight?"

The twins look at each other, then back at you.

"We already know ya want one of yer little kid movies, so just choose one and let's get it over with," Atsumu jabs at you with a smirk.

"Shut up, you cried during Finding Dory," you sneer back at him. He only sticks his tongue out at you. "And put a shirt on," you add as an afterthought.

"Why? Ya think I'm hot or somethin'?" Atsumu teases with a laugh.

"No, you're ruining my appetite," you shoot back. A lie. You would just rather not have yourself be distracted by his shirtless torso for the entire night. Atsumu lets out an offended gasp.

"(Y/N)-chan, yer so mean!" he whines.

"I agree, no one wants to see ya like this," Osamu backs you up, completely straight-faced.

"Shut up, fatass," Atsumu grumbles, but ends up stomping away to his bedroom to grab a shirt anyways.

"Thanks, 'Samu." You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Don't thank me. Just didn't wanna watch ya eye-fuck that idiot for any longer."

"I was not — !" you start to protest.

"Ya were," Osamu replies plainly.

"Was not."

"Were."

"You fucking suck."

"Yeah, Sunarin's dick." Osamu holds back a snort at your comical expression; your eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates and your jaw has dropped to the floor.

"You — "

"Didja guys miss me?" Atsumu waltzes back into the living room, a black t-shirt now covering his upper body.

"No," both you and Osamu respond in unison.

"Damn, tough crowd." He pouts as you turn his TV on, looking through Netflix for a movie to watch.

"How about Lady and the Tramp?" you suggest. Your puppy eyes, intentional or not, are too much for the twins to say no to. The two of them just sigh and nod. So, the three of you sit side-by-side on Atsumu's couch, eating the snacks that you and Osamu had bought.

"Better than Frozen at least," you hear Osamu mumble under his breath, and you choose to ignore him.

"Man, I'm gonna get home so late tonight," you say through a mouthful of potato chips. "I'm gonna have to get a taxi; the subways don't run this late."

"Just stay the night," Atsumu responds lazily. His arm is slung over the back of the couch, his other hand occupied with taking popcorn from the bowl that sits in his lap.

"But I didn't plan for it..."

"Yer already here and it's almost midnight," Atsumu insists. "You can take the guest room. 'Samu won't mind, right?"

"Of course not, dipshit," Osamu shoots back sarcastically. "But he's right, (Y/N). Ya shouldn't head home alone so late."

You hum. It has been a while since you've had a sleepover with your favorite (and the only ones you know) twins.

"S'ppose I'll stay," you agree.

You're not sure when it happened, but at some point into the movie Atsumu decided to break out some drinks. For himself and Osamu, nice cold beers, and for you, that 'fruity shit' that you like. It's been a while since you've drank; you're kinda a lightweight and you hate the feeling of being drunk and the hangover that follows. But, you suppose that you should take some time to loosen up, especially if you're staying the night, and this fruity drink won't do much damage; surely you'd be completely fine if not just a little buzzed.

About halfway into the movie, Osamu ends up falling asleep out of pure boredom, even to the sounds of your eager commentary of how much you're enjoying the movie. You can't help it; Lady and the Tramp was always one of your favorites growing up and that spaghetti scene —

You feel a few tears drip down your face, and you sniffle a little.

"(Y/N)," you hear Atsumu laugh from your left. "Are ya drunk?"

"No, I'm not," you reply, a little slower than usual. You take a final, pointed sip of your fruity drink. Wait... you squint at the label on the bottle. Twenty-five percent alcohol content?! "This shit is so strong, what the hell," you utter, your speech a little slurred. You’ve been actively sipping from the bottle for a while, so the alcohol is finally starting to kick into your system.

"Well, it's flavored soju, what do you expect," Atsumu replies blatantly, still boredly watching the movie. You don't say anything for a while. Confused, Atsumu glances over at you only to see you staring up at him with eyes sparkling with tears. "What?" he questions.

"'T-Tsumu," you stutter out before tears spill down your cheeks. Atsumu sighs. Right. You're an emotional drunk, and you absolutely hate that fact so you usually avoid drinking as much as you can. He supposes he should be taking some sort of responsibility since he had given you the fruit-flavored soju. He didn't know that it would be enough to make you drunk, but then again, he forgets how small you are sometimes.

"What is it?" Atsumu quips as you furiously wipe your tears away.

"I..." You slowly blink a few times. "I just..." You seem confused as well, as you're not sure what exactly you're crying about. "I..." You look back at him, and suddenly, you tear up again. "'m tired," you finally say, still sniffling. It's not that Atsumu likes seeing you cry, but you're maybe kinda adorable with your little red nose and watery eyes. He wants nothing more than to wrap you up safely in his arms and gently wipe your tears away.

"Well, let's get ya to bed them, hmm?" Atsumu hums instead of reaching for you like he wants to. You nod sleepily, yawning softly. He cracks a small smile. You're so cute to him, with your hair messy from laying around on the couch and your pretty eyes fluttering slowly. He knows you've had a long day at work, and that, along with the alcohol now in your body, is probably making you extra-tired.

Atsumu starts to move to help you off the sofa, but you stop him with a small hand on his knee. Before he can so much as open his mouth to ask what you're doing, you close the distance between the two of you, crawling right into his lap. Atsumu freezes, his jaw slackening as he watches you make yourself comfortable on his thighs, mumbling to yourself. The real kicker is when you wrap your arms around his neck before nuzzling your face against his shoulder. He almost passes out right then and there; whatever he was expecting, this was definitely not it.

"'Tsumu~" you sing-song happily, pressing your cheek against his shoulder and angling your head up to look at him. You're smiling far too cutely and innocently for the thoughts running through Atsumu's head in this moment. Your cheeks are flushed red from your drink, staining your face with life and your tears had suddenly disappeared, leaving behind bright, enthusiastic eyes staring expectantly up at him. Atsumu's always known that also you get rather affectionate when you're intoxicated, and he has been the object of your attention before. Usually you were happy to rest your head on his shoulder or play with his hair, but this time you seem to want to press your whole body to him, as if you're trying to get as much skin-to-skin contact as you can.

"(Y/N) — " Atsumu's cut off by his own choked groan when you shift in his lap, unintentionally rubbing yourself against him. He inhales sharply, instinctively bracing his hands on your hips. You don't pull away; rather, your cute grin seems to widen when his calloused fingers grip your sides, trying to keen into his touch. You only tilt your head cluelessly, waiting for him to continue. Atsumu takes a deep breath, quickly pulling away his greedy hands from you; he so badly wants to touch you more but he won't. He can't. He almost regrets his decision when the smile drops off your delicate features at the loss of his touch. "...I need you to get off of me so I can take you to bed," he explains to you in the calmest voice he can muster.

"B-But..." And you're all teary-eyed again. "Don't wanna..."

"You gotta," Atsumu says.

"Ya can't make me," you huff defiantly. "Yer not the boss of me." Ah, your accent. It's been a while since he's heard it. He's always preferred it over the standard Japanese accent you have now. Atsumu's heart gives a stutter of adoration for you.

"C'mon, (Y/N) — "

"Why d'ya always call me (Y/N)?" you suddenly grumble.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed ta call ya?" Atsumu replies, puzzled.

"Ya don't call them by their names." You frown, and Atsumu is still very confused. "Ya call them baby. Sweetheart. Princess. But never by their names."

"Ya wanna be called baby, sweetheart, or princess?" Atsumu laughs. "Ya gotta just tell yer next boyfriend that, then."

"No, 'Tsumu." You seem frustrated now. "I want you ta call me those names." Atsumu's chest constricts painfully because he wants to call you those too. He can't stop himself from thinking about exactly what he wants to do to you; hold you close, cup your cute face in his hands, kiss you nice and slow, mark your pretty neck to make sure everyone knows that you're his. Atsumu brushes a few strands of stray hair off of your cheek, shaking his head at the glaze over your eyes that tells him this isn't the real you. You're really that far gone, huh? He's doing his best to ignore the racing and pounding of his heart; he has the girl of his dreams in his lap but he has to remember that you're definitely intoxicated and clueless of what you're doing. He ends up covering his inner turmoil with a disbelieving scoff.

"Very funny, pipsqueak," Atsumu snorts with a condescending raise of his brow.

"'m not jokin'!" you protest, the cutest pout sitting on your lips. Atsumu looks away from you, not wanting to be tempted into trying anything. Your lips seem extra kissable when you look at him like that. If his self-control was a rubber band, that it's on the verge of finally snapping hard. Atsumu knows needs to tread carefully; he would never forgive himself if he somehow ended up taking advantage of you in any way.

"Ya don't know what yer sayin', (Y/N)," he tells you softly, staring down at his carpeted floor to avoid looking at you. But you're not having any of that. You place your delicate hands on his cheeks, forcefully turning his head to look at you.

"Course I do," you insist, running your hands down from his face to his shoulders, gripping them firmly. A chill shoots down Atsumu's spine at your actions, but you don't notice. You're sniffling again, tears starting to brim in your eyes. "Can ya just call me one of those? Just this once?" He can't find it in his heart to say no when your bottom lip wobbles. God, he really is so weak for you.

"If it'll make ya happy, baby," he says gently, and he doesn't regret his decision when your face lights up with a beautiful smile that makes the butterflies in his stomach take flight. Atsumu knows he's fallen in love with you all over again.

"Th-Thank you, 'Tsumu," you utter out through joyful tears. You happily run your fingers through his hair, playing with the light blonde locks. Atsumu just smiles, not even moving a single muscle to stop you.

"Anythin' for you." He means it. If you want him to call you pet names for the rest of your life, then he will. Atsumu would do anything to make sure you're smiling and happy for the rest of your life. But he knows your sober self will have very different opinions on the matter. In truth, you're probably just touch and affection-starved; Atsumu knows that you don't really have time to seek out romantic relationships and you probably still want to experience the feeling of being close to someone. Being intoxicated likely just allowed all of that pent-up frustration to come flying out; it's definitely not because you want affection specifically from him. Reminding himself of all of this makes the butterflies in his gut fall to the ground, dead.

"'m tired," you suddenly mumble again, letting your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Atsumu places a gentle, comforting hand on top of your hair.

"Alright, sleepyhead. Let's go, then," he murmurs. You nod tiredly. Atsumu picks you up, bridal-style, and carries you all the way to his own bedroom.

"Yer warm," you purr quietly, nuzzling your cheek against the solid expanse of his chest.

"Am I?" Atsumu quips, as he nears his bed. You let out a cry of protest when he places you on his bed, as you immediately missed the warmth of being pressed against him. Still, you're too sleepy to do say anything else for a bit, and you allow him to tuck you under the soft, fluffy blankets of his bed.

"...Yeah," you finally reply after a few moments. "Feels nice." You give him another breathtaking smile. Atsumu flushes a little, turning his head in embarrassment. He's never felt this flustered around a girl before, but of course you're not just any girl, you're you. And that makes all the difference.

"Sleep well, (Y/N)." You pout. "Sweetheart," he corrects himself, chuckling slightly.

"Stay with me?" you plead with wide, teary eyes. Atsumu almost gives in. He really does. Wrapping you in his arms and keeping you nice and warm, just as you liked, seemed oh so appealing. Atsumu would get to spoon you from behind, kiss your cheeks until you drift off, and fall asleep with you snug in his embrace just like he's dreamed about for so many years. The desire to give in and climb under the covers with you threatens to overtake him for a moment. But then you slur out a few incoherent words, gaze unfocused, and he reminds himself that this isn't you.

"Don't think so, sorry." Atsumu ruffles your hair affectionately when you whine in protest, about to cry again. No wonder you always avoid alcohol. You're very different when you're intoxicated, so much more needy and vulnerable. He's relieved that you're with him at least; he can't stand the thought of you being like this around someone else who might use you for their own selfish purposes.

Then again, at times, Atsumu isn't sure if he can even protect you from himself.

Your eyelids are starting to droop, despite your continued pleading to get him to stay. "Don't leave..." you mutter, your small hand wrapping itself around his fingers, clutching them weakly as you blink sleepily. "'Tsumu... don't go..."

"'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry," he tells you to get you to relax. Your eyelids flutter slightly a few more times.

"Jus' stay here," you mumble. "With me. No one else."

"Just with you," Atsumu repeats. "No one else."

"Promise?"

"Promise." A small smile crosses your lips as you drift off.

"Night, 'Tsumu," you say as you slowly fall asleep to the sensation of Atsumu gently running his fingers through your hair.

"Night, princess," he whispers tenderly just as you fall into slumber, your breathing steady and your eyes peacefully closed. Atsumu reluctantly releases his hand from yours, watching you grimace slightly from the loss of contact, but you stay asleep. He looks at you for a while longer, the traitorous part deep within him screaming at him to wrap you in his arms and go to sleep himself. But then he thinks about how awkward that would be when the two of you woke up. Hell, would you even remember what happened tonight?

Atsumu sighs, brushing the back of his knuckles against your soft cheek before shaking his head. Probably not. He needs to get back to the living room and turn off the TV anyway; it's still playing peppy classic Disney music that he wants to shut off as soon as possible. Atsumu can't help but look back at you one more time before he stands up. He leans down to press two kisses — one on each of your eyelids — to your beautiful, sleeping face. He lets his gaze wander tauntingly down to your soft-looking lips, staring at them unabashedly and longingly. He wonders, not for the first time, how very sweet you'll taste in a kiss. Atsumu forces himself to take a few steps back. No. He can't and won't do anything without your explicit, sober permission.

He quietly makes his way out the bedroom door, heart still pounding from the memories of your words and touch. You've never acted like that around him before. You would probably die with embarrassment if he told you how you had acted tonight. Maybe high school Atsumu would've teased you, but right now he couldn't even bring himself to so much as crack a smile over the whole ordeal, knowing in his heart that he wants this to be real so badly. If everything that you said and did tonight was truly of your own accord, Atsumu would've already pulled you into his arms and never let go.

As Atsumu plants himself on the couch next to his still-sleeping brother, the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp playing idly in the background, all he can think about is you (this hasn't been a rare occurrence lately). You had looked so perfect in his arms and on his lap, like you truly belonged there. You were so happy to receive his touch, snuggling into his embrace and smiling that adorable smile of yours. Atsumu wants to believe that at least a small part of you wanted all of it. But he knows that was all wishful thinking; you likely won't even remember this by tomorrow.

He glumly stares up at the ceiling of his apartment, an empty feeling threatening to consume him.

You wake up in a bed that's not yours.

You're bundled underneath warm, thick, dark blue sheets. You're still dressed in your casual clothes from last night, a t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. There's a minor headache pounding away at your temples, but nothing horrible. More so, you're just very confused at where you are.

You sit up, looking around the place, and your eyes zero in on a picture frame on the night stand. It's you and Atsumu on your graduation day. His arm is haphazardly thrown across your shoulder, and the two of you are wearing huge, bright smiles as you pose for the camera.

How did I end up in his room again? Your memory is foggy. All you can remember is watching Lady and Tramp last night with the twins, but you couldn't even remember when you fell asleep. Oh well, you do suppose drinking alcohol makes you sleepy, so you shouldn't be surprised that you had fallen asleep quickly after —

You freeze in the process of getting out of Atsumu's bed.

Suddenly, you remember.

Climbing into Atsumu's lap, laying yourself all over him, begging him to call you sweet names, pleading with him to stay with you — all of it comes rushing back. You know you're not good at handling your alcohol, but you can't believe that your inhibitions had been completely thrown out the window. It must've been so uncomfortable for him! What the hell were you thinking? You should've known better than to ignore the label on a bottle before downing the whole thing. You bury your face in your hands, groaning exasperatedly, hardly believing the extent of your own stupidity.

So much for keeping your feelings a secret forever.

God, Atsumu will never let you live this down. That, or he'll never speak to you again.

You decide to bite the bullet and face the consequences as soon as you can. You quickly freshen yourself up in his bathroom (he also has a designated toothbrush waiting for you). You stare gloomily at your own reflection in the glass. It's almost ironic, how a few months ago he had been drunk and made weird comments and moves on you. But the slate had been wiped clean because he didn't remember even arriving at your apartment. This time, on the other hand, you recall everything that had happened while you were intoxicated. You just don't know how to approach this; how the hell would things stay the same, now?

When you walk out into the living area, Osamu is making breakfast while Atsumu is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Neither of them notice your presence until you mumble out a meek, "Good morning."

"Mornin'," Osamu greets, hardly looking up from the fried rice he's making. Atsumu, on the other hand, jumps to attention, his eyebrows practically shooting off the top of his head upon seeing you just a few feet away from him.

"Mornin'!" he says a little too loudly. You cringe; oh God, this cannot be good.

"Listen..." you tell him lowly. "About last night..." He cuts you off with a laugh.

"Oh, right, the soju made ya all tired and loopy. Sorry 'bout that; I didn't know it'd be too much for ya." Atsumu grins easily and calmly, although the rapid tapping of his fingers against the fabric of the couch convey different feelings.

"I just — " He interrupts you again.

"Don't worry, I took care of ya. Ya need painkillers or somethin'?" Atsumu asks casually. You blink rapidly in confusion, coming to the realization that he thinks you don't remember last night. Is that why he's trying to pretend like nothing happened?

"I'm good, 'Tsumu," you say, forcing yourself to smile. "Thanks for helping me out."

There's a moment where the two of you lock eyes. Atsumu's chocolate brown gaze seems to burn right through you, seeing through the cheerful facade that you're attempting to put on. Something changes in his eyes as he stares at you, and then you know. You know, that he knows that you do remember. He, too, paints on a smile.

"No problem at all, (Y/N)."

You both know that you've finally reached the point of no return.

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