It Was Enough To Get Us Married Tho Without Knowing LMAOOO - Blog Posts

[9:41 A.M.]

it’s the pounding headache you have in addition to the chirping birds outside your hotel room’s window that wake you up. you groan at the feeling, bringing a hand over your forehead, int attempt to soothe the pain by rubbing at the spot just behind your eyebrow.

how much did i have to drink last night?

when your massage doesn’t work, your throw your hand off to the side, expecting the soft, plush comforter to be what your hand hits but on impact, it’s a hard surface; a little squishy, but mostly hard.

with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, you turn your head and just about yelp at the sight beside you.

miya atsumu snores peacefully, rolled over facing you, curled up into a pillow as he sleeps soundly. your sound doesn’t make him budge one bit and neither does the nudge you give his shoulder.

you blink a few times, in attempt to wake yourself up further, as if this could’ve just been some figment of your imagination - or by the doing of your pounding head.

after a few seconds, you realize that miya atsumu is indeed in your bed and you have no clue how or why.

“atsumu, what the hell are you doing in my bed!?” you chant the question like your life depends on it as you pull and shake his arm. your sleepiness has worn off completely at this point and all you’re left with is a pounding headache and feelings of horror.

“shhh,” atsumu shushes, half asleep, “let m’sleep.”

“not going to happen! get out of my bed!”

“last i checked, iss’ my bed,” he slurs sleepily, never moving a muscle, except to curl further into the plush pillow under him.

you blink at him, looking around your surroundings and to your surprise , he’s right. this isn’t your bed. hell, this isn’t even your room!

it’s an honest mistake since nearly every hotel room looks just about the same in this building but still! what are you doing in the same room as this man!

from what you last recall, you attended the formal banquet with the team you managed, the msby black jackals, for their usual sponsorship and endorsement scouting in addition to the several interviews some highly classified paparazzi you oversaw and organized.

you remember bokuto having a fit about his suit and tie not fitting right, hinata wondering if other players were also attending, sakusa avoiding every surface like the plague, and atsumu pouting and trudging around like a bored child at a wedding.

you remember eating the hors d'oeuvres - only because they were those spinach puffs you could never get enough of - and sending off to ur team in different directions to chat up with businesses.

the last thing that seems somewhat fuzzy to you is someone offering you a drink? making a joke? complimenting you?

you can’t remember.

“you’re going to tell me what the hell happened last night after the banquet or so help me god, i’ll beat it out of you-“

“always the charmer,” he mutters into the pillow. “‘s this what ‘m s’pposed to expect for the rest of my life?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together at his question.

“what’s that supposed to-” your voice falls in your throat when you smack his shoulder again, only to see what’s adorning one of your fingers; the finger between your middle and pinky, to be specific.

there, twinkling in the light coming from the hotel room’s window, is a beautiful band studded with an equally beautiful rock of a diamond probably worth more than your income. your lips part at the sight and a gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look.

“atsumu,” you mumble and it’s the seriousness in your tone that finally gets him to wake up.

atsumu’s eyes peel open and at the sight of you staring hard at your hand, he gradually moves to sit up against the headboard. “yeah?”

when you don’t answer, he rolls his eyes. “don’t tell me I got’ya the wrong size. i asked ‘ya like a million times what size ring y’were.”

“what?!” the loudness of your voice makes atsumu wince and he reaches to rub his temples wit his forefingers.

“jeez, what is it?”

“what happened last night.” it’s a question but your tone makes it sound like a statement as you glare at the man beside you.

atsumu gives you a long look, almost in shock that you don’t know. “jesus, how much did you drink last night? y’seriously don’t remember? i get that we were drunk but-”

“atsumu.”

atsumu sighs, now fully aware you have no recollection of the last twelve hours.

“we got married.”