Atsumu Miya always had a flair for the dramatic. Since high school, he’d been known for his flashy plays, sharp tongue, and a confidence that could fill an entire stadium. Fame only made it worse—or better, depending on who you asked.

And just like he boasted about his serves or smirked at his rivals, Atsumu loved showing you off. To him, you weren’t just his partner—you were the most beautiful human being to ever exist. A walking dream. And he made sure the world knew it.

At games, in interviews, on social media—your name came up as often as volleyball. He’d post pictures of you, talk about you during press conferences like it was the most natural thing in the world, and beam with pride every time someone asked, “Is that your girlfriend?”

He never thought he needed anyone. He was too focused on being the best, too self-assured to believe in love like that—until you showed up. Suddenly, the cocky setter who swore he’d never settle down was planning outfits for two, asking for your opinion before every event, and bringing you along to practices just because he missed you that much.

“You look so damn perfect,” he whispered once, after helping you zip up a new outfit—one of ten he made you try on before a public event. You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, and that was his favorite part.

He stood behind you, hands on your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he admired your reflection in the mirror like he’d won the championship just by having you by his side.

“Everyone’s gonna be jealous tonight,” he grinned. “Not ‘cause you’re with a pro athlete—’cause you’re you. And you’re mine.”

The world could have its opinions. His teammates could tease him all they wanted. But Atsumu Miya had fallen, hard and loud, and he wasn’t hiding it. You were the best thing to ever happen to him—and he would never stop making sure everyone knew it.