Congrats on 300 💞 could I request “okay, where are all my jumpers” with Atsumu Miya please 🥰
prompt: 8F – “okay, where are all my jumpers?”
pairing: miya atsumu x reader
lyra’s kisses: this is the first fluff I’ve written in a while and you can tell bc it’s not v fluffy AHHAHAH but I swear it’ll get better as I get more and more warmed up. atsumu might be a tad ooc here, idk AHAHAH but I tried my best
You hummed a half-forgotten tune, digging through your closet for a warm, yet fashionable, outfit. You were set to meet Atsumu for lunch at twelve, and it was already eleven-thirty.
Pulling out an oversized black sweater, you grinned at it before tugging over your head, the sweater drowning you in it, the long sleeves trailing past the tips of your hands.
A loud fart sound cut through the comfortable silence in your apartment, and you grimaced at the rude ringtone Osamu had made you set for Atsumu as a result of a lost bet.
Hurrying towards it, you yanked up the sleeves and picked up the phone, your boyfriend’s annoyed voice filling your ears.
“Okay, where are all my jumpers?”
You let out a nervous chuckle, free hand picking at a loose thread on the sweater you were wearing.
“Aren’t they in your closet? You know, where they belong?” You said nonchalantly.
“D’ya take me for a fool?” Atsumu deadpanned, and you could almost see his expression, his brows furrowed, hooded eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Oh, alright, fine, I have them,” you admitted guiltily, pouting even though he couldn’t see you.
His scowl was so loud you could feel it through the phone.
“But you can’t blame me for stealing them! Don’t think I don’t notice you stealing my jackets every time you come over,” you shot into the phone.
“Whatever, just meet me, I’m starving,” was all that came back before the call ended.
“Yeah, that’s right, run away,” you muttered down at the phone screen, packing your bag and leaving to meet him.
A short bus ride later, you found yourself waiting for Atsumu in the cafe you had first met, nursing a cup of iced coffee.
‘This man… never on time for anything that isn’t volleyball,’ you shook your head in fond exasperation.
Halfway through your coffee, Atsumu burst through the glass doors, a familiar jacket wrapped around him.
“You’re late,” you put on a mock-stern expression.
He sat down opposite you, eyes narrowed at your outfit.
“Blame it on Osamu, he tried to make me give him back his shirt when I was already wearing it.”
You raised your brows slightly, a small smirk on your lips.
“Do you have a problem we need to address?” You asked, amusement evident in your tone.
Atsumu scrunched his face up in an ugly scowl.
“What the hell are ya talking about now?” He said as he snatched your coffee out of your hands, finishing off the rest of it despite your feeble protests.
“You know, taking people’s clothes? Without their permission?” A full-blown smirk was now resting on your features, and Atsumu let out a swear.
“You’re one to talk, Miss Wearing-My-Sweater.” He grumbled.
“Okay, but I only take your clothes. You, on the other hand, take both my jackets and Osamu’s clothes,” you pointed a smug finger at him. “Also, buy me another cup of coffee, you thief.”
Rolling his eyes, he pretended not to hear you, getting up to order food.
“Coffee! Don’t forget my coffee!” You called after his retreating figure and laughed when you caught the subtle middle finger he gave you as he ran his hand through his hair.
(He didn’t get you a replacement coffee, claiming that it wasn’t healthy to drink so much caffeine in a day, opting for a fruity tea instead.)
