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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got a request for a drabble? send it in, i might write it :)
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songs? my fav song lately is Love You Better by GOT7, I think would make a great love scenario. also iu "can't love you anymore" would make such a great angst!!!! maybe something with sana?? 👀
‘Can’t Love You Anymore (Twice: Sana)
genre: angst,(slightly suggestive)
requested: yes :) - word count: 817
There is this thing about love. The thing you won’t usually see in the movies, or laid out in song, nor do people like to speak on it.
Love was all about admiring, adoring, touching, excitement. That was what you thought going into it.
Now you wonder if you would have been saved from this feeling if you knew that love could simply fade the way it did.
Would you have cherished every kiss with her? Held her tighter against your chest in bed? Looked into her eyes longer or more? If you knew it would end this way, would you even try at all?
It started beautiful as ever, an innocent fairy tale filled with whispers of sweet nothings, tentative hand holding, goosebumps and butterflies. It all felt significant then, but somehow it only seems like puppy love now. Maybe that’s all you felt for her…or that’s all she felt for you?
You both had told the story of when you first met hundreds of times. So often that you could finish each other’s sentences. You saw her, your Sana, for the first time in the high school hallways. You met each others eyes and the rest was history. It was a story that others admired, envied even. You and her were perfect to each other. Perfect for each other.
Years later you had made yourselves a home. The place where you both found your comfort, snuggling up to each other after a long day of whatever. The place where you both could rest. Where you both could just be together.
But life moves fast and time sometimes vanishes like sand in between your fingers if you don’t pay well enough attention.
Your home, where your hearts would usually meet, slowly turned into a place where you only saw each other on the others way out. Life quickly transformed from you both jumping into each others arms after a long day to giving one another a quick peck goodbye when one of you just came home and the other was just leaving. Texting and joking around with each other while at your seperate jobs was replaced by singular texts of one asking the other to pick up some milk on the way home.
When did it get like this?
In the few moments that you could spent together, you would sometimes give her a look from across the kitchen table - one she skilfully avoided. Her cutlery hitting her plate would be the only sound in the otherwise quiet room, but in your heart you hoped that if you thought it loud enough she would hear you. I don’t feel our love anymore.
Maybe she did. If anything still stayed the same from the past, then she could read you like an open book anyway - but if so, she said nothing.
Only in one of those rare moments in which you both craved intimacy, you’d find any sort of connection to each other. You try to speak, but kissing each other is easier. You try to feel by touch alone.
You would hold Sana down, kissing her and touching her in places that would once make her weak in the knees, just so you could hear those three words from her again in that way, a real way.
Anything would beat the routine “love you, bye.” at the end of a call.
But no matter what you did, those words didn’t come, and you couldn’t blame her. You understood her and understood what was happening between you.
After, you’d go back to your “normal” again. Trying to ignore it, you both went back to a peck for goodbye, a peck for goodnight, silent car rides and quiet dinners. This was all your story had become reduced to.
Whenever she didn’t avoid your eyes, you would see the past in them. You would see yourself, way back then, happier with her or just happy in general. You were confronted with memories that reminded you; you don’t like what this is anymore, you don’t like the person you are anymore…not like this anyway.
You sighed away the thought every time though. It might get better tomorrow, you’d think. We might talk it out in the morning.
Who knows how long you could have kept your downfall going? Maybe a day, a week, a year, or into eternity. But when she finally called you and shakily spoke the words, “I don’t think we’re in love anymore.” You couldn’t help but agree, no tears left to cry anymore.
So there it was. Your favourite person, the light of your life, turned back into a stranger. The woman who was once your crush, your muse and your true love felt a million miles away, even when she slept in your bed.
Therefore the next time, when someone asks you about love, you’ll give them the decency to at least be honest about all of it.
Love fades. Slowly, and then all at once.
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