literally anything with atsumu i love him and ur writing is always up to par so. i will be happy with anything. but a cute birthday themed piece could be fun perhaps
thank u so much i wrote this specifically for u and i managed to write a weirdly formatted atsumu centered fic that barely went over 1k words. we are so back
contains: fluff, mild childhood angst, a black eye, birthday cake
word count: 1163
gender neutral reader x miya atsumu :p
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October 5th, 1995
Atsumu Miya is born. He’s gifted a bright flash of light, the sound of his own cries, and - seven minutes later - a brother.
October 5th, 2003
There was a HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner taped to the cabinets in the kitchen. The R was ripped nearly in half, and the colors were dull.
It was the same one as last year, and the year before that.
Atsumu walked through the threshold with his brother right next to him. Osamu knew how to say thank you in the right way to get the best hug from their mom.
They were presented with one singular cupcake.
“Why can’t we ever get our own?”
The two boys sat too close at the kitchen table, the strawberry cake sat right in front of them.
“You have to learn how to share, Atsumu.”
He knew how to share. There was nothing left to learn.
One candle was mashed in the frosting. Mom lit the flame and Atsumu watched wax dripping onto his half as she sang their happy birthday song, and told them to make a wish.
Atsumu and Osamu looked at each other, then blew at the candle at the exact same time.
The cupcake was cut in half, and Atsumu’s stomach hurt before he could finish his. Osamu took it without being asked.
But if they had each gotten their own, Atsumu would've had more to share with his brother.
October 5th, 2010
Atsumu was fifteen and he knew everything. He was always right - never, ever wrong, and if anyone disagreed, they’d have to take it up directly with him.
He knew how to run his mouth. Maybe it was what he was best at. He’d never lost an argument - until his fifteenth birthday.
He’d gotten good at taking his aggression out in healthy ways - mostly in sports. But, sometimes, the words he spit couldn’t be left on the court.
He would say what he wanted, and he didn’t care who heard or hurt.
He didn’t know what he had coming to him.
The entire team had already abandoned the gym, all but Atsumu and the shitty middle blocker who played like he didn’t know his position.
Atsumu was outside stretching when his words hit his ears. “You’re a piece of shit, Miya.”
“Oh my god - get in line, dude, you’re about the fifth person today to let me know.”
“That many people wanna rip your head off? I wish one of them would teach you how to shut the fuck up.”
“And I wish someone would teach you how to block the fuckin’ ball.”
The guy didn’t reply. He took one step in Atsumu’s direction - he remembered hearing the crunch of gravel under the guy's foot. His shoulder moved with the step, and with it, the first real punch Atsumu had ever been thrown.
And it hit. Hard. Ten times harder than any hits from Osamu.
The guy’s fist collided with Atsumu’s cheek and then he walked away. Atsumu didn’t even have a chance to hit back - he was frozen in place, anyway. There was no fight in him. He was too surprised.
A black eye wasn’t on his wishlist for his birthday, but it’s what he got. A lesson learned? Not so much.
October 5th, 2019
He was another year older - so what.
The only part of Atsumu’s birthday that he liked was giving his brother a stupidly expensive gift, because it gave him an excuse to gloat.
Other than that? It was a day like any other.
Birthdays were nowhere near special to him - especially his own. But it just so happened that on that specific birthday, he had his first date with you.
And it didn’t even come up in conversation. Neither did his twin brother, or any of his volleyball stories he’d usually tell to impress a date.
Atsumu found out that he didn’t need to impress you, and he hardly needed to talk about himself.
He left that date feeling like he was friends with you, and maybe that wasn’t how he should feel after a date, but he was beaming. The hours with you at that hole in the wall bar didn’t feel like enough.
He took that feeling and ran with it, and he hoped - he prayed - you’d follow him.
October 5th, 2022
It’d been late nights for as long as Atsumu could remember. He’d come home and you’d already be in bed - if he was lucky, you’d wake up just long enough to tell him you love him.
That night was different from the rest.
That night, he would be coming home to - literally - an empty home.
Finally, you and Atsumu had moved into the house of your dreams that was yours. But, for the time being, you were living out of boxes and waiting for furniture deliveries.
He opened the door to a dark living room and an even darker hallway, and he didn’t bother turning any on lights to get to the kitchen.
There was a shred of light there, coming from an old bulb above the stove. He looked around the empty room and what he found was out of place.
There you were, sat on the floor. A chair was next to you, funnily enough, but it was taken by a round white cake. A handful of candles were stuck into the top.
“What are you doing?” he asked, the same time you spoke.
“There’s my birthday boy,” and your voice was all sleepy smiles. “Happy birthday. Happy anniversary.”
He sat in front of you, right on the floor, not caring when his knees popped on the way down.
“Did you stay up just to tell me that?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
You picked up the cake and presented it to him like you were proud of it, and the size of his grin matched yours.
“How mad would you be if I just tipped this up,” and he tapped the bottom of the plate, “right into your face?”
“Atsumu.” Every time you said his name like that, he laughed. “I would kill you.”
“On my birthday?”
He watched you pout as you sat the cake down again. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
“Thank you,” he said, like he was insisting. He wrapped his hands around your legs and scooted you closer to him. “Thank you, baby, this is so nice.”
You hummed. “You’re welcome.” And you dipped your finger in the frosting on the cake, and Atsumu immediately caught your wrist when you moved it toward his face.
“Don’t you dare.”
You kept pushing, and he didn’t push back fast enough - your finger and the glob of frosting smushed right into his cheek.
And you laughed loud enough to fill the empty rooms of your house, and Atsumu didn’t know how to tell you how in love he was.
He had birthday cake for dinner that night, and it settled into a sugary stomach ache. It was the best October 5th he'd lived through so far.
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