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heavenlyakin · 1 day

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starboy - atsumu miya x fem!reader

wc: ~5.8k

cw: fem reader, on-page drug use, alcohol consumption, the reader has red hair and hazel eyes (sorry, not sorry), reader blushes, and a little angst towards the end.

a/n: 18+ only please. I use “--” to switch POVs in this fic and “ – – –” is a time skip. I really hope you like this silly little AU! It’s giving Wattpad kid grows up and uses Tumblr and AO3 now. Sorry there’s no smut in this, but I might write a part 2 (please don’t ask for one because that’ll kill my vibes). If you’re interested in the playlist mentioned that they listen to, I’ll be happy to link it!

Part 2

—

Every crowd is the same, but somehow different in a multitude of ways. It’s a dichotomy that Atsumu hasn’t quite figured out yet. After years of touring and performing he thought he knew about everything about entertaining a crowd and getting them riled up. He’d sold out more than enough shows to back this idea up.

However, on night two of touring his third studio album, he notices you in the crowd. The glitter on your eyes falling to your cheeks reflects the stage lighting and draws him to your eyes. That’s when he notices your red hair, the burgundy red is a sight to see. He winks like he would to anyone else, but something in him yearns to walk back down the catwalk to you again. He resists, knowing he needs to keep doing his job.

But, he does look for you the next night.

He’s glad to see you’re back. He’s noticed fans going to multiple shows before and has invited them to the after-parties for being so loyal, so he thinks he wants to extend the offer. The other girls that seem to stick around are nice enough, and the band never seems to mind. When he’s changing between the third and fourth song of the night, he tells his manager to send someone out to see if you want to join them after the show.

He’s happy to hear back after the show that you accepted.

Outside the city limits, the rented house is big enough for hundreds of people to move around freely, but Atsumu got over massive parties after his first tour. The glamor of the drinking, drugs, and even the people he thought he loved being around seemed to lose their shine. With only about 30 people here now, he’s much more comfortable in this space.

From his seat on the velvet couch with his brother, he notices you come in; walking through the door in the same outfit you’d worn to his show tonight. The glittery lavender tube top is something to see, but his eyes linger on your legs, covered in iridescent shimmering tights under white shorts. Your smile and wave to another girl across the room makes him look away.

“How many more nights are we staying in LA?” Osamu asks his brother, taking a rip from the bong after. The smoke floats above the brothers, whirling in the colorful lavender lighting.

“Two more, then the tour really kicks off in the States.” He tells him, taking the bong from him and taking a hit.

He coughs after the smoke leaves his body and Osamu laughs at him. Atsumu has tried plenty, but he’s no longer used to the feeling. He takes a sip of water, leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out on the table, careful to avoid Osamu’s stash.

“I think this will be better than even last time,” he tells him. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

Osamu shrugs, “I needed a break from the restaurant.”

He’s not staying the whole tour with Atsumu, just the first leg of the U.S. tour, and then flying back home during the busy season at the restaurant. Osamu has been at his brother’s side since his early days trying to get a studio just to listen to one of his tracks, and now he’s watched him grow into one of the biggest Jpop stars in the world. He’d never tell him, but he’s proud.

How Atsumu gained his fame is quite the story, hard to believe really. Who would have thought that a little karaoke fun would have led to all this? It still shocks Atsumu to this day. Every night he wonders when the crowds will lessen, when the tickets will stop selling out, and when this dream will all be over.

“Can we join you?” Your unfamiliar voice sounds like a song Atsumu wants to write, but he shakes it off.

He’s slept with fans, had his fill, and he’s too old for this now. Nothing is exciting about someone who would do anything for you just because they are obsessed with you, not because they know you… the real you.

It’s just the excitement for the new tour that’s getting to him.

“Of course,” Osamu answers before Atsumu can tell you and your friend to sit.

Atsumu ignores the irritation that washes over him as you sit beside Osamu, your thighs touching. He ignores the way Osamu smiles and drapes his arm over your shoulder. He ignores the sting in his chest that’s unlike anything he’s felt before.

He looks away as your friend sits on the couch beside him.

–

Your friend starts talking to him and you notice Atsumu engages her in a friendly manner, but he’s reserved. Something you hadn’t expected. His brother, on the other hand, isn’t shy. The way Osamu’s thumb rubs circles onto your soft skin is enough to drive you wild. However, you don’t want to be that girl.

“Do you always tour with your brother?” You ask, making conversation. You know he doesn’t, but that won’t stop you from playing the part.

“No, I’ve never joined him before,” Osamu tells you and you look past him to Atsumu, he’s engaged in conversation with the girl you met tonight.

Honestly, tonight feels like a fanfiction you read when you were younger, getting to meet the band after the show and potentially fucking the lead or another member. The lead singer’s brother isn’t exactly who you imagined this playing out with, but you’re old enough now to know life is rarely like it is in stories… even if you did get invited to your favorite artist’s after-party. Despite the girl flinging herself towards Atsumu, after telling you that you couldn’t, you’re not going to let this ruin a good time.

However, when you look over at her and Atsumu, it seems like he’s more interested in the bottle of water between his hands than the girl on his right. Serves her right for being a bitch about you wanting to talk to him.

“Have you always been a fan?” Osamu asks you, and you realize you were probably spacing out.

“Oh, yeah. For the last few years anyway after his debut album.” You answer and he nods. This conversation is going nowhere. “Do you want a drink?” You ask him, seeing that his cup is empty.

He smiles and nods. “Come with me to refill it.”

–

Atsumu watches as you leave with his brother, disappearing into another room obscured from his view. He couldn’t hear what you were talking about with Osamu, thanks to the girl beside him rambling on about a festival she saw him at a few years ago. He can’t find it in him to care whatever she's saying about it.

Where is Osamu taking you? His irritation is present on his face, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as if he can see through the walls.

“Are you listening to me?” The girl, whose name he’s sure she told him, asks him.

“Not really,” he smiles to soften the blow. “Excuse me,” he gets up off the couch, leaving her behind without glancing back for her reaction.

He finds Osamu at the bar with you, wrapped up in conversation and mixing a drink that you take a sip of as he approaches.

“Can I talk to you?” Atsumu asks his brother.

Osamu looks surprised but nods. “I’ll be back in a moment, doll.”

“Not her,” Atsumu tells him, his voice barely containing the blinding feelings he’s experiencing all at once. “Not tonight.”

“Calling dibs?” He smirks, a laugh falling from his lips. “Fine, fine,” he shrugs after seeing the look of irritation on his twin’s face. “I’ll go talk to the blonde you were ignoring then,” he says and leaves the room.

Atsumu watches as Osamu goes to the living room of the rented house. The girl’s face lights up when he speaks to her. She drops her phone on the couch beside her and gives him the attention she wasn’t receiving. He turns back and sees you, sipping from a red solo cup and looking defeated.

“Why so sad?” He asks, leaning on the bar and flashing his winning smile. Your eyes light up and he sees they’re hazel.

You shrug, “I’m not. Just bored.”

Bored… she’s bored?

–

Fuck, why did you say that to him? Atsumu Miya, the biggest star in Japan and maybe even the world right now… thinks you’re bored at his party.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you stutter your words, trying to change his confused look to one of more understanding. “I’m just, not used to this.”

He chuckles, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I get that.” He tells you. “I guess this is a lot for someone who hasn’t been to our tour before.”

“I’ve been to your other tours.” You fire back, brows furrowed.

“I’ve never seen you before tonight.” He grins, and you think he’s enjoying picking on you.

“I’ve never been able to afford front row before now. I’ve always been in the lower sections. I don’t think even your pretty eyes can see that far back.” You take a sip of the punch that has something in it, maybe vodka. You’re not well-versed in alcoholic beverages enough to differentiate between them.

“I see,” he says and looks up towards the ceiling, teetering back on his heels.

Something about this little movement takes you by surprise. It makes him… real? You knew he was a real person, of course, but something so casual never crossed your mind. That’s the thing with celebrity idolization, you lose their sense of humanity.

That’s weird, isn’t it? But… it’s true.

“You seem a little bored yourself,” you comment, setting your drink down on the bar, but keeping it in front of you. “Not enjoying your own party?”

He looks at you, something on his face you can’t quite read. “It’s just not the same as it used to be, ya know. It’s more of an obligation.”

“You shouldn’t live your life for others.” This time, he frowns at you.

–

Is she serious? The look on her face makes it seem so.

Atsumu laughs, running his hand through his hair, feeling the gel still in it from the show. “I don’t think that’s true with my profession.”

Everything about him is for others.

She shrugs, her red hair falling over her face. She brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear and he wishes he’d done it for her. “I don’t think that has to be true.”

He leans on the bar, his elbows against the wood and hands supporting his face. “If you say so.”

– – –

Osamu leaves after three weeks, but that’s a quarter of the tour. They visited 9 cities during this time, but the parties started to dwindle. Everything from the second night of his show in LA is still stuck in his head. Red hair and hazel eyes haunt his dreams, even now. Plus, he can’t get out of his head what she said.

You shouldn’t live your life for others.

Isn’t that what he’s always done? Each album, every show, every meet and greet, every television or radio appearance, it’s all been for them… the fans. He puts a piece of himself in it all.

How many more pieces does he have left?

“Astumu,” his manager's voice grabs his attention. “The bus is stopping for fuel. Do you want anything from the station?”

“I can go in. It’s late, there won’t be a crowd of people.” He likes to go do his own bidding when he can, even though many times it ends with security having to drag him through crowds.

His manager frowns. “We don’t have security ready to take you in.”

“Who the hell is going to be out this late? It’s 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere outside Pittsburgh. No one will be there.” Atsumu says, probably more harshly than he intended.

He sighs, but his manager moves out of the way and lets him leave the tour bus. The chilly air hits his warm skin, making him shiver as he approaches the gas station. He recalls the last update from the driver. They’re only 60 or so miles south of Pittsburgh. Then they’ll spend three nights there for the two shows this weekend.

Atsumu was right, there’s almost no one here. The cashier looks half asleep at the register, and there are few cars in the lot. He turns towards the coolers full of drinks, looking for a Gatorade he likes. He locates the light blue color, opens the cooler, and grabs the cold drink.

As he turns, his eyes catch on red hair walking down the aisle next to his. He can’t help himself, he follows it.

“-----,” he says, shocked that you’re in this random gas station.

Looking at you, he takes in your appearance. So different from the night he met you. You’re in casual clothes, pink sweatpants hanging off your hips, with a matching sweatshirt. Your hair is still down, but something about it looks different, maybe it’s the waves in it. You’re without makeup too, but he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

“Atsumu?” You look as shocked as he is. “What are you doing here?” You wave your hand around, and he notices the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’re holding in it.

“Heading to Pittsburgh for our shows this weekend. What are YOU doing here?” Atsumu raises his brows, smiling at you.

“I, uh, I live here. Well, close to here.” You tell him, and he nods but is more confused than ever.

“Then why were you in LA for my show? Wouldn’t Pittsburgh be an easier show to go to for you?”

“Quite the interrogator, huh?” You laugh and Atsumu wants to record it and put it in a song. “If you must know, I won tickets and a hotel room by the venue on a radio contest. I was lucky caller number 7 and got two nights to see you.”

“Oh,” he never considered that. “Are you coming this weekend?”

“Oh no, I didn’t get tickets. They’re really expensive.”

Atsumu’s heart sinks. You won’t be there.

“Come with me. I think I can get you in.” He winks and you laugh. A few moments pass and he realizes you didn’t take it as seriously as he meant it. “I’m serious. Come with us.”

“Atsumu, you can’t be serious.” You laugh, cheeks blushing. He stares at you, again something on his face that you can’t quite read. “Oh, you are.”

He nods. “Pretty serious.”

“Look at me,” you gesture with your hands at your body. “I can’t just hop on the tour bus with you and head off to Pittsburgh. I don’t have anything on me.”

“I can get you whatever you need. I have assistants.” He feels desperate now like this moment is going to change the projection of his life. “Please, —--. I want you there.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine, but we have to go to my place and get my stuff.”

“We can do that!”

–

Atsumu is basically jumping with excitement and you wonder how in the absolute fuck this is happening right now. Of course, he’d find you on your 3 a.m. snack run when you look an absolute mess.

“Okay, let me just go pay for these,” you start to turn for the register, but Atsumu snatches the bag of chips and Dr. Pepper from your hands.

“I got these.” He smiles and the irritation leaves your body. Fuck it, he can afford it.

“Thank you,” you tell him, walking with him to the register. “Are you like… allowed to come with me to get my stuff or are you going to have to wait here for me?”

“Allowed?” He laughs, tapping his card on the card reader. The familiar ping rings in your ears as it accepts the charge. “Of course, I am. I do have autonomy, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr. Pop Star. Didn’t know if there were any rules you have to follow.” You tell him as he opens the door for you.

“Well, we do need to go tell my manager.” He sighs. “He’s kind of a hard ass. But he can’t stop me.”

“Can I wait in my car for that?” You laugh, not wanting to awkwardly be standing there when they have it out over him going home with a strange girl.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Which one is it?”

You unlock your car, the lights flashing. “That one. I’ll warm it up for us.”

The nights have begun to become chilly, fall setting in and all. You actually turned your heat on in your apartment tonight for the first time since late spring. You part ways, Atsumu heading towards the bus fueling area and you to your car. It’s a good fifteen minutes before you see him walking to your car, waving his hands with a big smile. You unlock the car and he slides in the passenger seat.

“Went well?” You ask.

“Oh, no. He’s absolutely pissed, but that’s not my problem.” He buckles himself in and you laugh.

“Well, he’s gonna be even more pissed when it takes an hour to get back. I live twenty minutes from here.”

“Oh well,” he shrugs as you put the car in drive.

The radio softly plays his second album and you feel your cheeks warm. “Sorry, I can change it,” you reach for the radio.

He stops you, his cold hand touching yours. You pull back, embarrassed and smiling.

“I like this one a lot. I wish we could still play it.” He tells you, turning it up.

“Why don’t you play it anymore?”

“It just didn’t do as well as others.” He shrugs and you feel bad. It’s not your favorite song, but it isn’t in your bottom tier either.

“You should play it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it,” he looks over at you and smiles.

The rest of the car ride you spend humming along to his second album, smiling and giggling when he sings certain lines to mess with you, and having genuinely one of the best times in your life. Hearing Atsumu live, even at his shows, has never sounded like this.

This feels… intimate.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say pulling into the apartment parking lot. “Please be quiet though. My roommate is sleeping. Plus she might scream if she sees you.”

“A fan?”

“Yes,” you roll your eyes and get out of the car.

Then you remember… the poster in your room…

“Oh. Um.” You stop him at the door of your apartment. “No laughing at me, but I might have your Rolling Stone cover on my bedroom wall.”

Atsumu laughs, shaking his head. His hair falls over his forehead. “That’s okay. I won’t tease you…. For now.”

“Fine,” you huff and open the door, welcoming him to the apartment. It’s dark so you turn on your flashlight on your phone “Remember, be quiet until we get to my room.”

He nods and follows you. You take off your shoes, and he does the same, then you show him to your room. To your surprise, he is quiet the whole way to your bedroom. Once you turn the lights on and shut the door behind him you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes immediately go to the poster adjacent to you.

“Remember, don’t laugh at me.” You turn to him and he puts his hands up in defense, a goofy smile on his face. “Also, I’m sorry about the state of my room.” There are clothes strung about, makeup here and there, and who knows what else is all over your dresser.

“As long as you don’t judge the tour bus, I won’t judge you,” he shrugs and doesn’t look around at the mess.

You pick up a few shirts on your way to the closet, tossing them in a basket to wash later. Honestly, they could be clean and just left out while you were getting dressed and forgotten about, but you don’t want to take the risk.

Atsumu is still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You can sit on my bed if you want,” you laugh, patting the duvet. At least your bed was made tonight.

He sits, crossing his legs and watching you as you go through your stuff to decide what to bring. It takes a few minutes to decide what you want to wear to the shows, but longer to decide what makeup to throw into a bag to go with them. It’s all probably too much but you finally finish packing.

“All done!” You declare, turning with two bags to face Atsumu.

You go to take a step, but your foot catches on a pair of shorts on the floor and you fall on the bed, on top of Atsumu. He reacts, catching you and falling back onto the bed with you hovering over him. He smiles, his face so close to yours now.

“Are you alright?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

You part your lips to speak, but you can’t so you close them. Your heart pounds in your chest. Hyper-aware of Atsumu’s hands on your waist, the feeling of your lower bodies smooshed against each other, and his lips oh so close to yours.

“Yes,” you finally get out and you feel yourself moving towards his lips.

No, you’re not moving; he is.

Atsumu’s lips brush against yours, his right hand leaving your waist and cupping your cheek. His lips are warm and taste sweet like a sugary drink. You kiss him back, trying to will your heart to slow down, sure he can feel it pounding in your chest. His thumb rubs against your cheek, the feeling sending shivers down your spine.

You pull away slowly, catching your breath and looking at Atsumu’s smile.

–

The way you look at him takes his breath away. That kiss, that feeling, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He’s aware of how he’s reacting, wondering if you can feel him through his and your pants or if he’s lucky enough that you don’t think he’s a creep.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he brushes your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“I’m not.” He’s regretted things in his life, and this will never be one of them.

You smile and he feels himself relax, “I’m not really sorry either. Well except for the falling on you. That was kinda embarrassing.”

He laughs, laying his head back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. All of this feels surreal, even with his life the way it is. He watches as you move off of him, picking up the bags you dropped and shoving a few last-minute items into the larger one.

“Ready to go?” You ask him and he rolls off the bed and stands.

“Are you?” He grabs your waist, pulls you into him again, and kisses your forehead.

You feel hot against his lips and he wonders if it’s because of him. When he looks at you again, your cheeks are flushed, so it definitely is because of him.

“Let me take those,” he grabs the straps of your bags as you relinquish them, allowing him to toss them over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you smile at him and he follows you out of the apartment and to your car.

“You should show me some other music you like on the drive back,” he tells you, placing your bags in the back seat.

“I’ll let you look at my Spotify and choose,” you smile, starting the car and handing your phone to him.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here.” He scrolls through your playlists, laughing at the one random country playlist with early 2000s music in it, and selects one of them.

“Are you serious?” You turn your head and stare at him, waiting for the light to turn green. “Not this one.”

“Too late,” he laughs. “You said I could choose.”

The car ride is filled with silly country songs he chooses, each one making you yell at him for picking it. He even forced you to explain why you selected each one for the playlist. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun with someone.

You pull the car into the gas station parking lot, pulling up close to the tour bus. He looks at the clock and sees it at half past 4. He hopes that he’s able to sleep at least for a few hours on the bus. He watches as you get out, giving himself a second to gather his thoughts before getting out and grabbing your bags.

To his surprise, his manager doesn’t say anything when they get on the bus. He looks at you, but he can tell it’s not bothering you at least. He shows you to the back of the bus, his room for all intents and purposes.

“You can put your stuff anywhere you want. We’ll have a hotel room when we get to Pittsburgh soon.” He says then realizes you might want your own room. “Should we ask for your own room?”

“Do you want me to be in my own room?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

“I’d hate that, honestly.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” You move to sit on the bed, looking around the room. “So, this is how Japan’s sweetheart lives on the road.”

“It’s as glamorous as it looks,” he laughs, laying on the bed on his side, his head propped up by his hand. “You get used to it pretty quickly, really.”

You lay down, on your back but turn your face towards him. “Don’t you miss being home, though?”

He shrugs, “Sometimes. I miss my family more than that really. I was glad Osamu stayed with us up until recently, but I won’t see my mom until the end of the tour.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” You tell him and he feels his chest warming. You yawn and he realizes how late, well early, it is.

“You should sleep until we get to Pittsburgh,” he tells you.

“You should too,” you tell him, eyes fluttering shut.

–

When you wake up, Atsumu is draped around you, his breath warm on your neck. You smile, taking it in and enjoying the quiet sounds of his breathing. His body is warm against yours and you’re surprised by how comforting this feels.

How is any of this real?

Yesterday you were working and then decided you needed a break from your dissertation and decided to go get snacks. Now, you’re sleeping on Atsumu’s tour bus in his bed going to his weekend shows.

A knock on the door grabs your attention and you nudge Atsumu.

“‘Tsumu,” you whisper, “someone is at the door.”

“Probably Jeff.” He whispers back. “My manager.” He tears himself off of you and goes to the door.

“We’re in Pittsburgh. Decided to let you sleep here for a few hours, but we need to check in to the hotel and then get to the venue for sound check.” Jeff sounds no-nonsense through the door. “Get your stuff and let's get moving.”

Atusmu shuts the door and you set up on the bed. “Please tell me your hotel room has a bathroom.”

Atusmu laughs, “Of course it does.”

You gather your bags, grateful you didn’t unpack anything and Atsumu helps you take it up to his hotel room. To your surprise it isn’t in the downtown area close to the venue, but instead closer to the suburbs. Perhaps it’s easier for him to have some privacy this way?

The hotel room is the largest you’ve ever been in. The room is as large as your apartment, truly. This is more like what you envisioned when you thought about what it would be like to be on tour with Atsumu, and what fanfictions described.

“I call dibs on the bathroom first,” you say, laughing but completely serious.

“All yours,” he throws himself on the king-sized bed, seeming to fall asleep instantly.

You brush your teeth first before hopping in the shower and taking an everything shower. You scrub, shave, wash your hair and face, and then moisturize your entire body after. As you’re drying your hair with the hotel dryer, you wonder if it's bothering Atsumu’s rest. You peek your head out of the door, still wrapped in the hotel robe.

Atsumu is standing in the middle of the room at the round dining table, eating a slice of orange. “Hey,” he raises his eyebrows, and you close the robe more across your chest.

“Did you order breakfast?” You ask walking in to sit at the table, clearly full of the food he ordered.

“Jeff probably did,” he tells you and sits next to you. “He sent more than enough, clearly.”

You load up a plate with eggs, bacon, and fruit. “Give him my thanks,” you laugh and begin eating.

As you eat together, Atsumu gives you a rundown of tonight's plans, the show isn’t until 7 and he doesn’t go on until about 8. So you have lots of time to kill, but there’s still soundcheck in the late afternoon. But, the plan is to just hang out here until then.

“Plenty of time for me to destroy this hotel room and get you in trouble,” you tease.

“Oh please,” he laughs. “They’d never believe it was me. I have a perfect record of leaving everywhere I stay in great condition.”

“Whoa, goody-two-shoes on our hands.” You tease and he throws a grape at you. “Oh, there goes your clean record.” You say as it hits the floor and he rolls his eyes.

– – –

Atsumu paces around the room and you notice he’s flexing his hands a lot. He’s dressed in a similar outfit he wore in LA, but a slightly different design. The gold sparkles compliment his skin, and you can’t ignore how nice his muscles look. The vest without a shirt is a good look on him.

“Nervous?” You ask, picking at the black skirt you chose for tonight.

“Excited,” he replies. “I love doing this. It makes it all worth it.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, he looks like he’s glowing and he’s not even under stage lighting yet. Maybe he was born for this.

“So, I get to sit in this cozy room and enjoy the show on this television while you perform?” You ask.

“Or, you can come backstage and stand near Jeff. He might not be the best conversationalist, though.” He suggests and you shake your head.

“If I’m here I’ll at least get to see you change throughout the show.”

“Pervert,” he teases and you shrug.

“I’m basically living every fan’s dream right now, let me enjoy it.” You stand up, walking towards him and he takes your hands in his.

“I hope I’m living up to your expectations,” he looks a little sad and you cock your head.

“This is more than I ever imagined.”

He smiles now, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “Wish me luck,” he says softly.

You break the space between you and kiss him softly. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips.

He hugs you tightly before pulling away and leaving the room to go get in position to take the stage for tonight’s show. You sit back on a chair in the green room, watching the screen as the cameras start to focus on the stage. The show’s set is just like the two nights you spent in LA until he plays the song you requested. He dedicates it to a special someone, and you want to cry.

He has to mean you, right?

There isn’t anyone else he’s doing this with, right?

You’d be naive to believe he isn’t doing this in every city, but some part of you is holding onto a nugget of hope that what he’s showing you is real. However, even if it isn’t you’ll remember this for the rest of your life.

He joins you for a few minutes a third of the way through the show, and you get to tell him he’s doing amazing. He kisses you before he goes, and then this repeats once more when he changes again. Once the show is over, the band joins him in the green room and you don’t get much time to talk to him. You socialize with everyone, but ultimately end up back at Atsumu’s hotel room. He’s still riding off his high, talking about different nights of the show and how tonight compares.

“I don’t think there’s been a better crowd, truly.” He tells you, tossing himself back onto the bed.

You smile and laugh. “Maybe the East Coast is just better than the West.”

“Maybe,” he laughs and sits up on the bed. “Would it be weird if I asked if you wanted to shower with me?”

You stop moving, “I- uh-” you stutter and shake your head.

He gets off the bed, crosses the room to you, and kisses you. “You can say no, it won’t break my heart.”

He disappears into the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

–

After Atsumu showers, he finds you on the couch, half asleep watching a rerun of a sitcom he’s not familiar with.

“Hey,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “The bathroom is free if you need it.”

You come to and nod. “Thank you,” you yawn before going to the bathroom.

When you emerge you're in black pajamas and your hair braided into two braids. Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t deny your beauty when you’re all done up, but this is something else. He feels like he’s in the presence of a deity.

When you crawl into bed, he pulls you against him, kissing you deeply. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles. He rolls you onto your back, hovering over you and parting your legs with his knee. You whimper as he grazes your core, but he controls himself.

In his head, he hears the melody of the moans he’d bring out of you and feels himself getting hard.

“Atsumu, wait,” you put your hands on his chest and he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away from your lips and looking down at you.

Tears are threatening to spill out of those pretty hazel eyes.

“I can’t do this. I want to go home.”

#paaaassiiiiiiiii!!!#this is the sweetest comment thank you so so much #🥀.pasi

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