You were sprawled across your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone — the kind of quiet evening that felt almost too calm.

That peace didn’t last long.

A loud thud echoed down the hallway before your door flew open with its usual dramatic swing. Atsumu stepped in like he owned the place — hair still damp from training, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

Before you could react, he bounded over and flopped right onto your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. In one smooth motion, his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into him.

“What chu doin’? Did ya miss me?” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he buried his face into the curve of your neck. You could still smell the faint trace of soap and sweat — that familiar post-practice warmth that clung to him.