hi loves!! i know i’ve been gone for a couple months so this was probably expected, but i’m archiving this account. meaning, i’m leaving my posts up but i won’t be posting anymore.
i’ve fallen out of the haikyuu fandom—i still love the show but i’m not as passionate about it as i was back over the summer. plus, i never really got as much interaction as i wanted here and it was really discouraging. however, theres a possibility i might pick up some smaus or things for the hell of it, but it’s a very low possibility and i kind of doubt it.
i still love writing!! i’m working on a novel right now (!!) and there’s a plethora of fics im messing around with for a different fandom (stray kids hehe). if i do ever decide to post some of these fics you can find me on @jislix, that’s my kpop blog. if you just want to talk to me or see what i’m up to, i’m also active-ish on @yuuphoriia and my discord (100 dex#2715)
anyway, thank you so much for the last 10(?) months!! i met a lot of amazing people here and had a lot of fun experiences!!
description: one by one, love stole the people oikawa cared about the most. it stole him, too.
pairings: oikawa tooru x fem!reader
w/c: 1.6k
genre/warning: angst, hanahaki au, major character death, mentions of blood, body horror?
a/n: this is a one day late birthday present for the wonderful @wanderynn!! rae ily don’t kill me for writing oikawa angst for your birthday
Oikawa was nervous.
Which was odd, because he had been in situations like this before. Interviews required being asked questions he was expected to answer, after all.
But those were interviews. This was a therapy session.
Oikawa’s gaze dropped down at his hands, slightly worn from years of slapping a volleyball with his entire strength. Those same hands that had slapped a ball with spine-chilling intensity were the same hands that gently caressed your cheek, the same hands that easily intertwined with yours, the same hands that tilted your chin up with every kiss he placed on your lips.
Oikawa’s eyes started to burn.
The therapist seated in front of him continued to tap away on the computer, her face devoid of any emotion. She seemed to be satisfied with whatever was behind the screen and swiveled around to face him, a disgustingly fake smile on her face.
(Oikawa would know, his smiles were fake as well. Slightly strained, a little too bright to be genuine.)
“So, Oikawa-san,” the therapist said, making eye contact with him.
“Oikawa is fine.”
“Oh, alright. So, Oikawa, how are you feeling?”
Tired. Numb. Odd. Guilty.
“Fine.” The fake smile came easily.
“Ah, okay. Is this your first experience with Hanahaki?”
No, of course it wasn’t. He was told that being well-known meant people will fall in love with him. “It’s not your fault, Tooru,” they said. “Some people fall in love very easily.” Oikawa remembered snorting, thinking that no one could possibly fall in love with him just because he was charming and good-looking.
He was wrong.
(It started with Ume, the bubbly girl in his second year of middle school. Then Riko and Akika in his first year of highschool, one other girl he didn’t remember the name of in his second year, and Mizuki in his third.
Only three of them had settled on getting amnesia and forgetting Oikawa entirely instead of dying. The adoring gazes he was once plagued with became empty stares.
But Riko didn’t. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to her funeral; he knew the only stares he would get would be accusatory ones.)
The therapist continued. “And I mean, not just from being a celebrity, but with people close to you.”
Oikawa suddenly found it difficult to breath. He saw the flash of spiky dark hair, of rude nicknames and harsh shoulder slaps.
(“I’ll be alright.”
“Iwa, you’re dying!”
“I said I’ll be alright.”
Oikawa was in Argentina when Iwaizumi died. “He had a severe coughing fit on the street that made him pass out,” they told him. “He was dead before they could put him in an ambulance.”
Oikawa cried for hours.)
“Yes,” Oikawa said quietly. “A close friend of mine died from it.”
“Oh.” The therapist’s smile faded away. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It’s fine,” he said, flashing his brightest of smiles.
The therapist’s expression became more serious. “Dealing with that much loss must be hard.”
Oikawa didn’t respond. What does he even say to that?
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
About Iwaizumi? No, about you. Oikawa’s smile was smaller, obviously less genuine. “No, not really.”
“Well, uhm…” the therapist drummed her fingers against her thigh. “Were you two close?”
“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. The lines between the two of you had been gray and blurred. Were the intoxicated kisses at two in the morning really love, or just drunken lust? Being tangled up under the covers as you lazily slept on top of the other wasn’t necessarily romantic, was it? You held his hand because you were afraid of losing him in the crowd, not because you loved him, right?
(Wrong.)
“Even if we were friends, we were closer than most friends were.”
“Ah.” The therapist typed something on her computer. “How did you find out?”
“Come again?”
“When she was diagnosed. How did you find out it was you she was in love with?”
“Oh.” Oikawa looked out the window. It seemed to be on the cusp of fall and winter, bare branches and freezing temperatures but no snow.
He found himself smiling. You hated the snow.
“She told me a couple hours before she died.”
The therapist sucked in an audible breath. “What was that like?”
Oikawa swallowed slowly. “We were sitting together, watching a movie or something like that. She had a coughing fit.”
(He remembered how weak you looked pressed up next to him, your knees drawn to your chest, your eyes hollow and empty, your body thin and frail. Your coughing fits were violent, more violent than most. Tissues and handkerchiefs followed you wherever you went, stained with shriveled, bloody petals.)
“She told me it was me. I didn’t understand her at first, but she was saying it was me over and over. And then I understood. Six hours later, she died.”
“Is that all?”
No. “Yes.”
“So you didn’t really have much time to think about it before she passed, but it must have made you feel guilty. That’s why you’re here today.”
Oikawa nodded.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Oikawa.”
That’s what they all said. But he couldn’t help it, could he? He saw you sprawled on the ground in a pool of crimson, serene white petals decorating the floor like it was some sort of aesthetic arrangement. You looked so unbelievably peaceful, finally freed from the death vice of your unrequited love for him.
Love for him.
Oikawa was blind. He was desperate. He was so desperate for affection that he accepted your kisses and touches with open arms, disregarding the fact that you could be in love with him. Pure, inhumane lust drew him to you, trailing his hands down your arms, pressing his lips against your skin. He was a monster.
“Oikawa, I take it that you’ve heard of PHH?”
(PHH - (Purple Hyacinth Hanahaki) A branch of hanahaki originating from guilt over the death of a loved one; usually one who had died a hanahaki-related death from being in love with them.”
Oikawa’s nose had wrinkled reading the definition off of his health textbook. “That can happen?” He asked, glancing over at Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi shrugged and continued to fill out his homework. “Love is confusing.”
“If it’s this confusing I’m never going to fall in love!” Oikawa huffed. “Love is stupid!”
“That’s what you’ll say now, Stupidkawa. I bet you’re falling in love first.”
“Hey, Iwa-chan, not true!”
The world was an ironic, cruel place.)
Oikawa’s heart pounded in his chest, an ominous countdown. (Countdown to a diagnosis? Countdown to his death?) He nodded once. “I know about it.”
The therapist drums her nails on her desk, echoing his already racing heart. A sympathetic look passed on her face. “You might be at risk for that, Oikawa.”
Oikawa found his eyes drifting over to the window once more. He spotted a lone orange leaf clinging to the end of a tree branch, persisting even as the wind violently shook the branch.
(Your body shaking violently as you clung to Oikawa’s arm, whispering “it’s you” over and over, a mantra that would haunt him even in death.
Death. It was coming sooner now, wasn’t it?)
Another violent shake, and the leaf spiraled to the ground.
(Ghostly empty eyes, mouth slightly parted as blood dribbled from the corner. Your arms were wrapped around nothing, as if in those last moments of life you were holding something tight to your chest, a last connection to the mortal world.
Oikawa wished he was there. No—no he didn’t. He wouldn’t bear to see the light fading from your eyes as he held you in his arms.)
He closed his eyes. “I know.”
He found himself back on the court two days later.
“He always finds a way to come back to the court.” His coach had said that once. Highschool Oikawa had reveled in the praise, reveled in his devotion to a sport.
Now it felt shallow. How dare he be more devoted to a sport than the own two people who motivated him to even start playing? How dare he be blinded by the rush of dopamine a successful serve gave him? How dare he not support his closest friend when he was nearing his end? How dare he not notice your unyielding love for him? How dare he how dare he how dare he-
Oikawa swiveled on his heel and threw the volleyball onto the wall. It bounced off with a satisfying “thwack” and landed back into his hands.
Oikawa sighed.
His thumbs traced slow circles against the leather. Soothing. Calmi-
(His thumb rubbed a gentle circle into your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot on your face.
Your lips quirked into a smile. “For what?”
“Mm,” he moved forward and closed the distance between you greedily, encapturing you in another kiss. “It doesn’t matter.”)
Oikawa threw the ball up and took a step forward, shifting his weight into his feet for the jump.
A violent cough tore itself from his throat.
Oikawa collapsed onto his knees, his hand pressed into his mouth. The coughs were aggressive, sending violent tremors throughout his entire body. His throat hurt.
(“Yeah, it hurts,” Iwaizumi muttered, quietly rubbing his throat. “It hurts like hell.”)
(“It hurts.” Your voice was a ghost whisper in the quiet hums of the night. “Tooru, it hurts.”)
The coughs subsided, leaving behind an eerie sort of silence. Oikawa removed his hand from his mouth.
Ah, he thought. I should’ve expected this.
A vivid purple petal dotted with crimson sat in the palm of his hand. He closed his fists around the flower petal, his eyes stinging with tears.
Love was harsh words and sore throats. Love was drunken lust in the ungodly hours of night. Love was confusing. Love was stupid.
Love, it seemed, was everyone’s demise.
-purple hyacinths represent sorrow or regret.
-white tulips represent forgiveness.
taglist: @joliechuchoter @pablopascal @yn-tingz @vannerz @strawberriimilkshake @sunarashi @hajiimes @tttournesolll @hajibee @semiis @kageyuji (send an ask/dm if you want to be removed, fill out the form here to be added!)
description: you are iwaizumi’s home; even if he is forced to take you to a ramen place at 2 in the morning.
pairing: iwaizumi x gen!reader
genre/warning: banter, fluff, literally just filler dialogue with an overarching plot, light mentions of violence
word count: 1.8k
a/n: this was inspired by some headcanons im going to post. oh and this is for @hajiimes... hehe <3
“I got into a fight.”
Iwaizumi paused, his phone hovering near his ear. He resisted the urge to let out a sharp laugh—of all the things, why did you have to get into a fight?—and slung his arm over his face. “And you lost?”
Iwaizumi could almost hear you pouting. “To be fair, they were-”
“But you lost.”
A pause. “Yeah.”
Iwaizumi dragged his hand across his face with a heavy sigh. “Why are you fighting people at,” he paused to squint at the digital clock on the dresser, “Two in the morning?”
“Ramen.”
“What?”
“Hot and spicy shrimp,” you said solemnly. “There was only one pack-”
“You’re aware we have finals tomorrow, right?”
“Exactly the reason why I wanted ramen.”
Iwaizumi sighed again. “Are you hurt?”
“Well, someone elbowed me in the eye-”
“The eye?”
“Yes the eye. I’m pretty sure it’s swollen, but other than that I’m perfectly fine.”
“Why do you sound so happy?” Iwaizumi asked, getting up to scour his closet for a hoodie. “You lost a fight over a pack of ramen.”
“Well technically, no one won the fight. We all got kicked out of the store. Poor guy didn’t even keep his ramen.”
“Which store?”
“Walmart.”
“You couldn’t have gone to a convenience store or something?” Iwaizumi pulled on the hoodie Oikawa sent him from Argentina and grabbed an old Godzilla hoodie from his closet.
“Haji, this is Socal, not Japan,” you condescended. Iwaizumi scoffed at how haughty you sounded. “I’m sure Socal has convenience stores,” he muttered.
“Well, Walmart was the closest.”
“You could’ve woken me up,” Iwaizumi grumbled, moving on to grab the keys off the drawer, “I would’ve taken you to a convenience store.”
“But you were sleeping.”
“So? You know how dangerous that was? I’d feel a little better if I was there.”
“Yeah, but I wanted ramen,” you sighed. “Anyway, can you pick me up, Haji? It’s getting cold.”
Iwaizumi shut the apartment door with a quiet click. “I’m leaving the apartment now.”
“That was fast.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling that you’d want me to pick you up.”
“Okay. Oh, and remember to drive on the right side of the road.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure? You almost drove into a tree last time.”
“Because I was tired.” Iwaizumi opened the door to the car, dropping the hoodie into the passenger’s seat. “Tired people don’t think straight.”
“Aren’t you tired right now?”
“No, I’ve been awake since you told me you got into a fight. You need to tell me what the hell actually happened there.”
“I told you, it was ramen,” you huffed. “There was one pack of spicy shrimp and three desperate college students in need of ramen.”
“So you fought for it.”
“I lunged for it, some other dude shoved me, I crashed into the third person, and then he was pushing them and I was on the floor and then someone’s elbow was in my eye and then the employee grabbed us and tossed us out.”
Iwaizumi took a moment to process your words. “You sound proud of yourself.”
“I’m not. I didn’t get the ramen.”
“No one got the ramen,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “Isn’t that what you said?”
“I mean yeah, but now I can tell people I’ve been in a fight.”
“Why would you want to tell someone you’ve been in a fight?”
“I dunno,” you sighed. “I’m tired and hungry. Tired and hungry people say weird things.”
“Damn right.”
“That was an insult.”
“It was.”
“Ouch.”
Iwaizumi didn’t respond, lightly drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for the red light to turn green.
“My eye hurts,” you said suddenly, your voice crackling from the phone’s speaker.
Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“No,” you decide. “Ramen would make it better.”
“So now I’m buying you ramen?”
“Yeah.”
“At 2 AM?”
“It’s 2:28 now.”
Iwaizumi scoffed.
“I found this ramen place that’s open,” you said. “24/7 Ramen. It’s 25 minutes from here.”
“Why is there a ramen place open for 24 hours?” he muttered, half to himself.
“It’s probably run by college students. That’s why the name is catchy too.”
“Catchy?”
“It sounds like a song. You know, 24 Karat Magic by Bruno Mars.”
“Never heard of it.”
“What?” Iwaizumi found himself flinching, despite the fact it was simply your voice coming from his phone’s speaker. “How have you been living in America for two years without ever hearing 24 Karat Magic? That song is a classic.”
“I think you’re forgetting you’re speaking to a guy born and raised in Japan.”
“Haji, you’ve been here for two years. That’s 24 months. 48 weeks. And a certain amount of days I’m too tired to calculate.”
Iwaizumi thought for a moment. “730.”
“730-” you paused. “How the hell did you calculate that so fast?”
“Dealing with stupid people makes you smarter, I guess.”
“No, ramen makes you smarter.” You sighed. “I really want ramen.”
“I heard.” Iwaizumi turned the steering wheel, bringing the car into the Walmart parking lot. “And I’m here now, so you can stop whining.”
“Oh, I see you. Do you see me?”
There was a figure sitting on the front curb, waving erratically in Iwaizumi’s direction. “I see an idiot waving at me like their life depends on it, so yes, I see you.”
“I think being around stupid people makes you grumpy,” you grumbled.
“No, having to pick my significant other up from Walmart at 2 in the morning makes me grumpy.”
You responded by scoffing and hanging up the phone. Seconds later, you were sliding into the passenger seat of the car. “Aw, did you bring a hoodie for me?” you asked, glancing down at the Godzilla hoodie that you almost sat down on.
Iwaizumi glanced over to you, raising an eyebrow. “Hello to you too.”
You rolled your eyes and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Iwaizumi’s cheek. “Hi, I love you, thank you for picking me up. Happy now?”
“I’m ecstatic. Yes, that hoodie is for you.”
You smiled, pulling the hoodie on over your shirt and relaxing into the seat. Iwaizumi carefully looked over your face. The only noticeable injury was the ring of darkness around your eye—did they really elbow you that hard?—and a slight cut on your upper lip, but those would heal soon. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“What, is there something on my face?” you asked, reaching up to brush your fingers over your cheek.
“You have a black eye.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Damn. Is it bad?”
“No, not really.” He checked the dashboard for the time and slightly frowned. “Where’s the ramen place?”
24/7 Ramen was a small convenience store in between an optometrist and a cigarette shop. On the outside, it wasn’t much. The name of the store was illuminated in large flickering neon letters. The exterior brick walls of the store were dusty and crumbling with age and wore. The windows were covered with assorted posters and papers, some for missing children, upcoming movies, and advertisements for Japanese snacks.
“Oh, so this is like a Japanese convenience store then?” you asked, looking at one of the Japanese ads. “I guess you were right.”
“Told you.”
“Just come on and buy me my ramen.”
The door opened with a familiar chime that reminded Iwaizumi of warm yakisoba buns, tangled with the sight of preppy school uniforms, and of course, Oikawa Tooru. The layout of the store was straight out of Japan, overwhelming him with countless reels of tender highschool memories. If he closed his eyes he could see himself standing right there, bag under his arm, Oikawa at his shoulder.
“Feeling a little nostalgic, huh?”
His head whipped toward you standing behind him with an amused smile on your face. “This place does have a Japanese feel to it.” You raised your eyebrow in that insufferably adorable way of yours, and Iwaizumi found it hard to breathe.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets as a flush began to form on his cheeks. “Be quiet.”
You hummed but made no other comment, instead choosing to shoot him another knowing look that made his blood roar in his ears. You started moving through the store, picking cups of ramen off the shelves. He hovered behind you, still embarrassed about his nostalgic moment—was he that homesick?—occasionally picking up cups of ramen and examining them before placing them back onto the shelf.
After what seemed like ages, you presented your armful of ramen cups with a proud smile. “I’m done.”
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not buying you 15 cups of ramen.”
“But you promised-“
“Each one is like, 65 cents? I’ll buy you 5, max.”
“Why not more?”
“I’m just as broke as you are.”
You sighed in defeat. “Being broke in college sucks.”
“I told you we should’ve held off on getting a car.”
“But I wanted a car!”
“More than you want ramen?”
“That’s- that’s an unfair comparison!”
Iwaizumi continued to go back and forth with you, even as you paid for the ramen at the cash register. You were in the middle of a frantic explanation of why investing in a car was important in California when you finally made it outside.
The air was still and cool, save for the slight breeze that occasionally tangled in Iwaizumi’s spiky locks. The only sounds were the distant cars speeding across the road and the faint sound of crickets chirping, for you had both fallen silent after leaving the convenience store. Iwaizumi turned to look at you: one eye swollen, upper lip bleeding, a plastic bag full of convenience store ramen clutched tightly in your hand. He could see the fire in your eyes, that odd determination to make your own dreams a reality, no matter how fickle or ridiculous they were. It was similar to the drive he saw in Oikawa’s eyes, he realized. The reckless, worthless one that seemed to be a double-edged sword.
Maybe that’s why whenever he looked at you, he felt like he was at home.
“I love you, you know that?”
You cocked your head to the side and smiled slightly. “Where did that come from?”
He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets again, turning away from your curious gaze. The corners of your mouth pulled up into a faint smile. Without warning, you turned Iwaizumi toward you with your finger and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. And then you were bounding off toward the car, the plastic bag jostling in your hand.
“Hey,” Iwaizumi called, starting after you. “Come back here so I can kiss you properly.”
“I want my ramen!” came your response from the car. “No kisses until I get my ramen!”
Iwaizumi chuckled softly. You were annoying and feisty, but you still managed to make him feel right at home.
taglist in reblog; please comment/reblog with comments in the tags or in the post if you enjoyed!! i love hearing your feedback :)
description: you stumble upon a box of love letters while looking through oikawa’s things.
pairing: oikawa x gn!reader
genre/warning: fluff, oikawa is being bullied, jokes about oikawa being a p*dophile but it’s not serious they’re just bullying him, kissing
word count: 797
a/n: im working on my 1k event, but this idea came to me after seeing oikawa in the new episode. also thank you @wanderynn, @hajiimes, and @jaegerinc for beta-ing
“What are these?”
The object in question was a box filled to the brim with assorted envelopes, most of them pink or blue with glitter and frilly hearts. You picked up one of the envelopes; a bright pink one with hearts doodled in red ink all over the front and the back. You squinted at the overly embellished handwriting and attempted to make out the words. “To: Oikawa Tooru?” You sliced open the envelope with your finger and pulled out the letter, equally as pink as the envelope and decorated with hearts. “Dear, Oikawa-kun. This is a letter to tell you I’m in love wi-Oh my God, Tooru are these love letters?”
Tooru was as pink as the envelope in your hand. “Yeah.”
You snorted and broke down into laughter. Makki and Mattsun scrambled to observe the contents of the box, giggling at the ridiculous amount of hearts and frilly handwriting. Iwaizumi even cracked a small smile, peeking over Makki and Mattsun’s shoulders in interest.
“You,” you started, once you had recovered from your fit of laughter, “you kept all the love confessions from high school?”
Oikawa reached over to take the letter out of your hands. “It’s none of your-”
“He reads them when he’s sad,” Iwaizumi remarked, not looking up from the letter he was reading.
Oikawa froze. “I-” He bit his bottom lip and looked away. “I do not.”
“He does, it’s written all over his face,” Mattsun said.
You set down the letter and reached for a new one. It was more subtly colored, the writer choosing to go with a soft baby blue color and doodled hearts and stars. “Dear Oikawa-senpai—oh, so this one from an underclassman?”
“I can’t control who sends confession letters to me,” Oikawa sulked, bringing his legs to his chin.
“You’re looking a lot like a pedophile now,” Makki hummed.
“I am not-”
“Dear Oikawa-senpai, I really do admire your volleyball and leadership skills. Your serves and amazing tosses win you the position of the Great King—”
“Look at him, all proud and shit,” Mattsun interrupted, shaking his head. Everyone's eyes snapped to Oikawa, who had the remnants of a smirk on his face. He turned away and examined his fingernails. “They’re right, though.”
You sighed. “Tooru, you really are pathetic.”
“I’m not pathetic!”
“Here, how about this one,” Makki cleared his throat, making his voice high-pitched. “Dear Oikawa-san, your skin is as smooth as porcelain and your eyes glitter like liquid chocolate.” Makki’ eyes widened and he set the letter down. “Ew, that was disgusting.”
Iwaizumi snorted. “I’m never eating chocolate again.”
“Amen to that,” Mattsun said solemnly. Oikawa grumbled and crossed his arms.
You searched the box for another letter. Your eyes caught a crumpled piece of notebook paper, free of any bright colors or hearts. You picked it up and flicked it open, reading the messy kanji scrawled on the paper. “Oikawa, I’m not one of your fangirls who worship the ground you-” You trailed to an immediate stop and slapped the letter down.
Mattsun’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, is that?...” He snatched the letter away before you could stop him and skimmed over the paper, his eyes gradually widening as he read further. “Jesus Christ, it is. Makki, look.”
Makki read over the letter and laughed. “No way.”
“Shut up,” you snapped, snatching the letter back from his hands.
“What is it?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi tossed a pillow at his face. “None of your business, Shittykawa.”
“But it’s my letter!”
“Nope, mine now.” You shoved it into your pocket and rushed toward the door of his bedroom, but Oikawa was faster. In one graceful swoop he pinned you to the wall with one arm and grabbed the letter with the other, dashing away before you could stop him.
“Oikawa, I’m not one of your fangirls who worship the ground you walk on, but I really do admire your determination and perseverance. I mean, it’s almost stupid how crazy obessed you are about getting to the top but I guess that’s what I like about you. Whatever, this is dumb, you’re probably not reading this anyway. From,”
You blanched and took a step toward your boyfriend. “Tooru, I swear-”
“L/n Y/n.”
Oikawa looked up from the letter to meet your gaze, a small smile on his face. “I can’t believe my Y/n-chan wrote a confession letter to me,” he teased, a smirk curving up the corner of his mouth.
“That was ages ago,” you grumbled. “I was stupid.”
“I think it’s cute.” Oikawa walked over to hand you the letter and placed a quick kiss to your forehead. You huffed and attempted to avoid eye contact with him, but he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “I think you’re cute.”
taglist in reblog; please comment/reblog with comments in the tags or in the post if you enjoyed!! i love hearing your feedback :)
pairings: therapist!akaashi x client gen!reader (can be read platonic! also, mentions of having a boyfriend in the past)
w/c: 346
genre/warning: angst to fluff, mentions of relationship problems and previous/attempted assault! please do not read if that triggers you!
a/n: this fic is told entirely out of senses! it’s 3rd person POV and the emotions and things are described without mentioning any of the reader’s thoughts or describing any emotions!
this was previously a timestamp titled 12:31 PM!!
the jittery bounce of your leg. the sweet smell of lavender wafting from a diffuser. the repetitive click of a pen.
click. click.
the mumble of undetectable words. “that sound is annoying.”
the pen clicking stops. “what was that?”
your leg falls still. there is a silent pause. “nothing.” the leg bouncing resumes.
a/n: i feel like this isn’t good enough for bokuto’s birthday but eh
listen: get you the moon by kina
Stargazing.
It was a widely romanced activity; lying together on the dewy grass, shoulders almost touching as you stared at the white pinpricks of light against a midnight canvas. White pinpricks that were too far away to touch, too far away to even see properly. They would point up at the sky, laughing and smiling together, drinking the other's presence while they admired the stars.
You didn't see the point.
The stars were just hydrogen and helium. Tiny balls of burning fire that would soon explode and stain the night sky with hellfire. They were so vast in number that they were unable to be counted. Innumerable. The word brought on a bout of anxiety in you that you weren't able to extinguish.
You turned to look at Bokuto who lay next to you, staring intently at the sky with a sort of awe that only he could manage. Feeling your gaze on him, his golden eyes shifted over to you. He turned around to completely face you, a smile blooming on his face.
(Despite everything, you found yourself smiling too.)
"Akaashi told me the names of all the constellations, but I forgot." Bokuto gave you a sheepish smile.
You could only chuckle, turning your head to face the sky once again. "That's fine, Kou." You'd still dislike it anyway.
"The stars are pretty," Bokuto added.
You hummed in agreement, unable to bring yourself to lie to him.
"Oh!" Bokuto turned around, his golden eyes alight with excitement. "Did you know that since the stars are so far away, we see what they looked like a couple minutes ago? I think that's so cool."
"I think it's depressing," you blurted. "We never get to see what they actually look like."
Bokuto turned to you, eyes wide. "Wh...What?"
Guilt clawed at your throat. The last thing you wanted to see was the light in his eyes fading away. "Never mind," you mumbled.
"No, Y/N, tell me!" He looked at you with wide-eyed curiosity. "I want to know!"
You let out a low sigh, knowing that withholding that information from him would make him more upset. "I don't like the stars," you admitted, twirling a blade of grass around your finger. They're just balls of fire that we don't even know that much about. Whenever I look up at them I get... anxious, I guess. Because there's so much we don't really know about them."
Bokuto was quiet for a long time. With every second that passed where he didn't speak, you felt your anxiety climb another step. That was stupid, you told yourself. You should've lied. He shouldn't have to deal with your depressing thoughts.
"I get happy when I look at the stars," Bokuto whispered, startling you. "Because I see everyone I love in them. Akaashi, Kuroo, Tsukki, Hinata, Tsum-Tsum, Omi-kun..."
You found yourself holding your breath.
"But," he swiveled his body around, stopping when he found a particularly bright star hanging in the sky. He pointed at it; and you realized it was the North Star. "The brightest star is you."
You sucked in a breath, looking at him with wide eyes. "Koutarou..."
"Y'know what?" Bokuto sat up, flinging his arms to either side of him. "If I could get you the entire sky, I would. All the stars, the moon, everything." He turned to smile at you. "That's how important you are to me."
You searched for something to say; something that would describe the way your heart was blooming with warmth and how you felt like you could fly—but no words came to mind.
(Later, you realized words wouldn't have sufficed.)
So instead you flung yourself into his chest, letting the tears—tears of love and joy—flow down your cheeks. He buried his head into your hair, his arms squeezing your body like you were the only thing important to him.
He smelled like stars, you realized. Dewy grass and quiet night air and love and stars.
description: is osamu foolish for turning his back on the storm?
pairings: miya osamu x fem!reader
genre: royalty au (no specific time period), soft? angst, allusions to a panic attack
w/c: 1040
a/n: this was for the miya twins’ birthday but yeah that didn’t happen... also osamu might be ooc but whatever
The nights afterward were riddled with sleepless nights plagued by what-ifs and unanswerable questions, but perhaps the worst of them all was the simple question: was he foolish?
Was he foolish for turning his back on the ominous clouds on the horizon, looming with the realization that his brother was going to marry the love his life? Was he foolish for choosing to ignore; to blind himself with the delirious joy that came from being around you?
Years after, he still didn't know.
The day Osamu realized he couldn't run away any more was ironically a pleasant one. A warm spring breeze wove its way through the vivid pink of the cherry blossom trees, coating the courtyard with sweet-smelling petals. The sky was an aimless blue, dotted by tall, fluffy white clouds.
(It was oddly fitting, Osamu would think later. Clouds like those often brought the threat of rain.)
It was a stark contrast to the dark mood inside the palace.
"Atsumu is the crown prince to Inarizarki's throne, and he needs a queen to stand by his side. Thus, we have come to the decision that Atsumu will marry Y/n-hime."
Lightning struck Osamu's heart, sending ripples of shock and pain so thick he almost stumbled.
(The clouds were overhead.
There was no running from it now.)
Osamu felt Atsumu's gaze on his, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him. The solid hold he thought he had on you was slipping, fading, dimming. Swept away in the winds of the storm.
Osamu knew he was spiraling.
"What do you mean you can't do anything?" he snapped, seconds away from raising his voice—something Osamu never did.
Atsumu—someone more quick to anger, quick to snap back, quick to say words that could leave scars—was just as upset, raking frustrated fingers through his hair. “I can’t do anything, ‘Samu! I’m a prince, not the damn king! I can’t change something that’s been in place for generations!”
“The Atsumu I knew doesn’t give a damn about the rules,” Osamu retorted, his voice dangerously low. “The Atsumu I knew is a troublemaker and a rulebreaker, willing to do anything if it was worth trying. The Atsumu I knew would do anything,” Osamu’s voice cracked, splintering into pieces. “...anything for his brother.”
“Maybe I’m in love with Y/n too!”
The breath left Osamu’s chest sharply. He stared wide-eyed at his twin brother, watching as he, his twin brother, someone he thought he knew better than himself, became a stranger, an unfamiliar face in the darkness.
(That’s when the first drops of rain fell from the clouds overhead, converting into a downpour that drenched Osamu in a bone-chilling sorrow.)
"I know you think it's always 'Osamu and Y/n,' but it's not. I didn't ask for all of this!" He spread his arms out to either side of him. "I didn't ask to be the damn crown prince. I didn't ask to have to go to some fancy ball every other day while you and Y/n ran around the castle. Y/n is my friend too, 'Samu. We all grew up together."
The rest of Atsumu's word faded away into muted mumbles. Osamu's ears were ringing—or was that just Atsumu's yelling? He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel anything.
The world he thought he knew, the world he had drowned himself in, was fading away.
Words and music melted into soundless blurs around him. Random strangers with no faces greeted him, and he greeted them back. Or did he? He didn't know.
The pounding in his heart was louder than any sound in the ballroom. You were there, somewhere, mixed into the nameless crowd. So close, but still miles apart. Were you looking for him? No, you couldn't.
Osamu tried to take a shaky breath, but he found himself unable to breathe. The crowd became suffocating. The grand walls of the ballroom loomed over him, pushing him in. The clouds of the storm coiled and rippled, pushing him down.
Get out. He needed to get out.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs of judgment and confusion that followed. He broke his way out of the palace and into the coolness of the garden outside. He tried to take a breath.
He couldn't breathe.
All around the empty garden he saw you. You throwing up cherry blossom petals, giggling when one landed on your nose. You running through the aisles of hydrangeas, yelling at him to chase you. You tripping and falling into the fountain, you falling asleep on his shoulder under the trees, you everywhere.
Osamu took off again.
He didn't stop until he was in the grove of trees at the back of the garden, the place where you, him, and Atsumu would sneak off to when your parents had a meeting. He swallowed slowly. He took a breath.
He could breathe. Ironic.
He sunk to his knees and buried his head in his arms, taking shallow breaths.
You're a coward. The clouds overhead mocked him as they rained hellfire down onto his heart. Look at you, running away again. You lack the courage to do as little as look your lover in the eye. How pathetic. How f-
"Osamu?"
He didn't believe it was you at first. It wasn't until you repeated his name again, your voice desperate, when Osamu looked up.
"Y/n." His voice broke.
Was he foolish?
Was he foolish for still taking you into his arms as you cried? Was he foolish for pressing a feather-light kiss into your hair? Was he foolish for telling you it was okay?
(Once again, he was turning away from the horizon—although now, the storm was upon him. Refusing to acknowledge that the perfect life he had crafted for himself was now being ravaged and destroyed.)
You were not permanent. None of this was permanent. Soon he'd stand at Atsumu's left-hand side and watch him wed the girl he loved.
Osamu tilted your chin up with his finger. Maybe I am foolish, he thought as he put his lips over yours. Maybe we're all foolish.
As your lips joined together for the last time, you pretended that you didn't feel the tear that flowed down Osamu's cheek.
“mmm?” suna turned on his back, his arm lazily slung over his eyes. “whaisit?” you found yourself giggling at the way the drowsiness in his voice slurred his words together.
“look,” you prodded, pointing to the window. “it’s snowing!”
your boyfriend squinted against the darkness at the window you were pointing at. sure enough, a quiet flurry of white snow was slowly but surely making its way down from the night sky, covering the ground in a while blanket.
“mkay.” suna rolled back on his side, pulling your head under his chin.
you looked up at him, smiling quietly when you saw the light upward curve of his lips.
omg ok ive said it already but congrats on 1k baby wtf im so proud of you 🥺😭 for your event, can i get the word river with kiyoomi please? TYSM MWAH
river - sakusa k.
—timeskip, unrequited pining, gn!reader, angst?
—thank you for requesting bb <3 sorry this was really short,, i wanted to add a little more fluff but i didn’t want to force myself to write something that was bad swxjshs
Sakusa was drawn to you.
It wasn’t just a light tug, a simple interest in you—it was a pull. He found his eyes snapping over to you once you entered a room. He hung on every word that came out of your mouth. His blood roared in his ears whenever you flashed him a polite smile.
(It was a pull that felt right, even though the feelings were so foriegn to him. Sakusa was practical, down-to-earth, but maybe, just this once, he believed in destiny.)
He was completely smitten. Infatuated. Whipped, as Atsumu would say, flashing him a fox-like smirk that made Sakusa scoff. He was drawn to you, like a rushing tide to it’s shore. A natural flow; the tug of gravity.
(He wondered if you felt the same way.)
Soulmates. Destiny. All foriegn terms, but they felt incredibly real whenever your arm would accidentally brush his, when your fingers barely touched as you handed him a water bottle.
(You had to feel the same way.)
He wondered when this flow, this pull towards you, would end. Rivers didn’t flow forever, didn’t they? They all emptied out into a bigger body of water, like a lake or an ocean, or they branched off to flow in a separate stream.
“Sakusa-san, did you hear me?”
Sakusa blinked and flicked his gaze towards you. You were looking up at him with that beautiful gaze, your eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern.
(He wanted you.)
Sakusa shook his head and apologized quietly, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. He was obsessed with every little habit of yours. He loved the way you slightly bit your bottom lip as you thought about something, he loved the way your eyebrows would raise in muted amusement at Bokuto’s antics, he loved the steadiness of your gaze when it met his, unwavering and strong.
(He needed you.)
Where would his river end, he wondered. Fulfilled with you, or emptied somewhere else?
description: kyotani wakes up and decides he wants to screw the routine by confessing to you. it’s not as easy as it sounds.
pairing: kyotani x gen!reader
tags: fluff, kissing, childhood friends to lovers, kyotani is definitely ooc, a lot of pining, mild swearing, kyotani avoids his feelings, yahaba is kind of a dick, i hate my writing style and will probably delete this, this is incredibly cliche im sorry
word count: 1.5k
a/n: help this came to me out of literally nowhere... i also will crosspost this to ao3 once i figure out how that stupid website works
kyotani has a routine. it is as follows:
1) drag himself out of bed. (this was the hardest step.)
2) spend a ridiculous amount of time in the shower staring at nothing.
3) frantically search for his wrinkled school uniform.
3.5) find said school uniform shoved into a corner of his closet.
4.) grab something out of the kitchen and call it breakfast.
5.) go outside and walk to school with you.
step five is his favorite part, of course, because this was when he sees you, rushing out of the house despite the fact that you still have 20 minutes to spare and you live a couple blocks away from the school. you would greet kyotani with a bright “morning, taro,” and a warm smile, and then you’d fall into step with him, striking up a random conversation about a variety of topics.
the next step was one of his least favorites.
kyotani would look at you, talking animatedly and gesturing widely with your hands, and the words would fall on the tip of his tongue. dangerous words like “i love you” and “i want to be by your side forever.” and kyotani would consider saying these words and relieving the aching press on his chest, but they’d always lodge at the back of his throat. (he’d never been good with words, anyway.)
fast forward a couple hundred steps and he’s back home, tossing his school uniform in a place he’d worry about next morning and collapsing into bed.
this was the routine that had been in place in his life since his first day of junior high. every day he’d come one step closer to admitting his love for you, but the words would never come out. he’d get home, disappointed, but go through the same thing all over again the next day. rinse and repeat.
until, one day kyotani wakes up and he decides firmly that it was time to screw the routine.
screwing the routine is harder than it sounds.
in his mind he blames this on many things. one, there’s morning practice, so he couldn’t have walked to school with you that day. two, you’re in a different class, so he hasn’t gotten the opportunity to talk to you at all. three, the routine is his main enemy in this entire thing, yes, but it’s a routine, meaning it’s second nature for him to stay quiet and let the life-changing confession sit at the back of his throat. four, he’s terrified and is avoiding you like the plague, but that isn’t really anyone’s fault but his.
kyotani frustratingly stabs the rice in his bento with a chopstick. screw the routine, yeah right.
he’s eating lunch with yahaba and watari in their classroom instead of going outside with you, all because he’s scared. yahaba gives him a wary glance at the sound of his random attack on his food, but continues complaining to watari about his math teacher. (watari doesn’t seem that interested in the conversation. in fact, he just looks tired.) kyotani, watari, and yahaba are probably what you called friends, but this is the type of i-just-hang-with-you-because-we’re-in-the-same-volleyball-team-and-i-have-no-one-else-to-hang-with type of friendship. this isn’t like the bond that he shared with you after knowing you for his entire life.
“hey, mad do—uh, kyotani? why aren’t you eating lunch with y/n?” watari asks, almost letting oikawa’s stupid nickname for him slip. (kyotani really doesn’t mind. it meant people avoided him.) yahaba makes an offended noise at the back of his throat at how blatantly watari was ignoring his complaints about iwasaki-sensei’s homework assignments, but he turns to kyotani curiously, awaiting his answer.
kyotani grunts something incomprehensible and continues stabbing at his rice. yahaba and watari are very aware of where kyotani usually ate his lunch, and who he usually ate his lunch with, but that’s only because you had invited them to eat lunch with you and kyotani once. you had told kyotani something like “you need more friends” or some other bullshit when he had expressed his annoyance over this, and kyotani responded with a grumbled, “no i don’t” but he complied anyway. if it made you smile, he’d always listen.
“kyotani, i’m sorry but i don’t speak ape, what’d you say?” yahaba asks, not sounding sorry at all, and kyotani has the overwhelming urge to shove his chopsticks down yahaba’s throat. but he doesn’t, because he swears there’s a tiny you in his head, firmly declaring that he “had to be nice to them because he needs more friends.”
“oh, hi y/n!” watari says brightly.
oh.
shit.
kyotani whirls around to come face to face with you, a mildly annoyed expression on your face. your eyes flicker to his, and he sees a wave of hurt that’s quickly replaced by simmering anger. kyotani doesn’t know whether to feel guilty or scared for his life.
“hi, watari-kun, yahaba-kun,” you greet sweetly, your voice dripping with practiced friendliness.
(he says practiced because he’s actually seen you practice your smile in the mirror when you were running for class president. he had been supportive of your campaign, in a quiet, mumbled, kyotani way, but he couldn’t hide the twist in his heart whenever he saw that fake smile. it slid over your face easily. it reminded him of oikawa.
kyotani frowns. did he just link you to his obnoxious captain? something was seriously wrong.)
your gaze slides over to his. “hi taro,” you greet, just as sweetly as before. kyotani’s heart sinks. you never used your fake smile on him. this time, kyotani knows to feel guilty, and the guilt slides over him almost as easy as the smile slid over your face.
“hey,” he says. and then he’s just staring at you, lips dry, tongue heavy. the routine, his mind reminds him. screw the routine.
“can you-?” he jerks his head over to the doorway and you immediately understand, nodding. (you’ve always understood.)
“give us a sec,” you say, grabbing kyotani’s wrist and dragging him to the doorway. yahaba and watari blankly stare, but nod nevertheless.
once you’re in the safety of the quiet hallway you pounce, twisting on your heel so his back was almost pressed up into the wall, your face inches away from his. “why have you been ignoring me?” you demand.
and this is the part where kyotani is supposed to screw the plan. he admits that he’s ignoring you because he wants to confess to you but at the same time he doesn’t because he’s terrified, you accept his concept, maybe there’s a heated makeout scene, fireworks, credits roll. but this isn’t a damn movie and kyotani is still afraid, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he stares at his reflection in your eyes.
so instead he does what he does best. he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away, a frown already twisting his lips downward. “i dunno,” he mumbles. screw the plan be damned.
“men,” he hears you sigh, before you take his chin and gently turn his head to face him. “kyotani kentarou,” you say, firmly. this was your authoritative, class president voice. (you have used this on kyotani before, so he isn’t surprised.) “tell me what’s wrong.”
there’s something soft in your eyes that makes kyotani unravel. it’s something so warm, so comforting. kyotani so desperately wants to bury his head in the crook of your neck, wrap his arms around your back and draw you close and then just stay there. he swallows slowly and drops his gaze to the floor.
kyotani has never ever been good with words. they tumbled and tripped in his mouth, lodged in the back of his throat. he moves with actions and expressions instead: a glare and a shove was easier than saying, “i’m upset, go away,” after all.
so instead of talking kyotani moves, cupping your chin in his hand and closing the space between you with a kiss. he knows it would be your first one—you had told him once that you’d never been kissed before—so he decides it has to be the best kiss you’ll ever have. one that screams fireworks and sunsets and fruity gum and grass-stained knees and fireflies captured in jars. one that screams sincerity, passion, and adrenaline. one that screams i love you, i want to be by your side forever.
he breaks apart from you with a sharp inhale of breath. “that’s… that’s why,” he murmurs, and he hopes that you understand. (inwardly he’s screaming at himself—did he really just kiss you? what happens now? do you hate him?)
“kentaro,” you say slowly, eyes blown wide. your fingers ghost your lips, as if you wanted to touch them but you were afraid of the kiss going away. “did you just kiss me?”
“yes,” kyotani says dumbly, and he knows his cheeks are violent red. “are you upset?”
“no,” you whisper. your voice is soft, hesitant, as if the words are shocking you. “no, no i’m not.”
the beginnings of a smile cross kyotani’s face. “really?”
“no,” you say. “can you kiss me again?”
and he does kiss you again, and this kiss is slower, less frantic. you sigh against his lips and kyotani feels like laughing. is this what accepted love feels like? like you’re floating and you won’t stop?
“i love you,” he says once the kiss is over. the words don’t lodge in his throat, thank God.
“believe me, i know,” you laugh. “i love you too, dork.” and you pull him in for another kiss.
taglist in reblog; please comment/reblog with comments in the tags or in the post if you enjoyed!! i love hearing your feedback :)
Omg your event is so cool! Congrats!!! 🎊🍾🎈🎉 could I maybe request “long drives and sleepless nights” with noya? (PLS LMAO I’m so bad at titles I was trying so hard to think of something inspiring enough for you and something fun to write, I hope you enjoy writing it if you do 🥺 and congrats again!)
—this ask is like 3 months old... and this turned out way longer than expected oops 😭 im gonna crosspost this to ao3!!
Nishinoya is terrified.
You’re sitting so close to him that your shoulders could brush against his if you leaned to the right, but of course you don’t. You’re staring frustratingly out the car window instead, refusing to look at him.
Nishinoya is terrified because he knew was going to screw this up even more than he already did.
Tsukishima had once told him, at the end of his last year in Karasuno when people were starting to consider driver’s licenses, that he should not be trusted behind a wheel of any sorts. He had scowled, ready to snap back at his junior, but then you had laughed, and Nishinoya was staring at the way the corner of your eyes crinkled and how you moved your hand to hide your giggles.
He forgot what he was going to say to Tsukishima, but none of it really mattered because it turns out it was true. He had only obtained the license because of his sister’s persistent teaching and apparent history with his driving instructor (he couldn’t look into his instructor’s eyes after learning that), and even after he did, he managed to crash his car into a stop sign. And a tree. And a ramen stand. His infamous driving accidents had become an inside joke between you, Tanaka, and him; but again, Nishinoya didn’t really mind because you looked so cute whenever you were laughing.
So when three years had come and gone and he was back in Miyagi and he had asked you, “hey, go on a late-night drive with me?” out of nowhere and you had said yes, he was completely floored.
“You’d trust me driving a car?” was what he had said, completely confused, and when you just shrugged it off saying that “it’s been three years, maybe there has been improvement,” he almost cried with joy.
Turns out none of that matters, because despite the fact that there were no road accidents he forgot to fill up the tank of the car.
And now he’s stranded in a car with you on a back road in the middle of God-knows-where, and his phone has no service and its freezing cold. You refuse to talk to him, glaring at the window with a finality that was stubborn, for even you.
Sigh. He really knew how to screw it up, didn’t he?
His ingenious Plan (the capital was intended) was that he’d drive you out to a beach in the middle of the night and then whip up some sappy confession that creates enough romantic tension that it would be ethical to kiss you. And then he’d ask you out and you’d say yes, because he was a great kisser and you were totally in love with him.
(At least, that’s what he’s been trying to convince himself of since he got back to Japan.)
But Nishinoya, being the idiot that he is, didn’t even get to drive you to the beach.
You’re obviously worked up about the entire thing, but apart from arguing with him about what to do earlier, you had remained silent this entire time, avoiding his gaze. He can see the firm press of your lips and furrow in your eyebrows.
(God, he hates that expression. He wants to see you laugh again.)
A quiet voice in his mind instructs him to be quiet, that talking to you would probably make you more upset, but the irrational voice in his mind, the one he always listens to, tells him: “Y/N can’t stay mad at you forever, yolo.” And that, in Nishinoya’s book, is pretty good advice.
So he opens his mouth.
“Hey, Y/N.”
He sees you bristle, but you stay silent. Nishinoya’s heart sinks. “Look, I know you’re mad, but-”
“Are you stupid?”
Nishinoya blinks. “What?”
“You. Are you stupid?”
Yes, he is stupid. He is completely aware of that. He lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I am. I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Uh… being stupid? Stranding you in the middle of nowhere? Ruining everything?”
“Yuu.”
You turn to look him straight in the eye, and he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. God, did he make you cry?
“You left.”
Nishinoya’s world comes crashing down.
He did leave. After learning of Tanaka and Kiyoko’s engagement, he had packed his bags and disappeared. Because the world was moving too fast. Everytime he looked at you and felt that ache in his chest, he told himself he had time. Savor this relationship, this friendship, you can always hide your feelings. But then he saw the way everyone was moving on to new chapters of their lives, even you, and he realized with a shock that if he didn’t confess to you now, you’d move on.
But he was terrified. The threat of rejection loomed over him, taunting him with heartbreak and humiliation, and when he’d try to run from that, the threat of you moving on laughed in his face.
So he ran away.
He ran away from Miyagi. From Karasuno’s volleyball club. From you.
It took him three years to come to his senses and return, and he was so relieved when he found you just where he left you, at home in Miyagi. He picked up things where they’ve left off and tried his best to avoid the issue of him leaving. He mustered up his courage and created the Plan with the intention of going through with it.
But then things went to shit, and suddenly the elephant in the room—“Why did Nishinoya run away?”—became bigger and bigger.
And apparently, you were going to address it. Elephants are hard to ignore.
“You left, Yuu,” you repeat, your eyes piercing into his. “Not even a proper goodbye, just a text to the group chat at 1 AM that you were going halfway across the world. That’s such bullshit. Did you ever think of how we felt?”
Nishinoya opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. Like a dumb-looking fish out of water.
“Did you ever think about how I felt?”
All the air is sucked out of Nishinoya’s lungs. The fish out of water metaphor was apparently becoming more and more fitting.
“I was scared,” Nishinoya mumbles, but it’s a half-assed excuse.
“Scared of what?” Your voice is sharp and it cuts straight through the curtain walls hung around his heart.
“Everything was moving too fast, and I couldn’t keep up with it. I needed to do...something, but I was scared of doing it. So I ran.” Nishinoya sighs. “I’m not saying it was a good thing, I just.. I just panicked. I was barely sleeping because I kept worrying about everything, and it kind of felt like everything was crashing down. So I ran away.”
“What were you scared of doing?”
Your voice came out of seemingly nowhere. The sharp edge was gone, replaced with something softer. Curiosity? Anticipation?
Nishinoya closed his eyes. Yolo, his mind whispered.
tumblr is apparently rolling out a beta for a new post editor that essentially makes it so there are no longer post “types” (text post, audio post, photo post, etc.), and instead all types of content are better integrated into a single post. pretty neat, right?
…until you read the fine print.
The maximum number of total content blocks allowed in a single post is 250.
i emailed support and asked whether each paragraph counts as a content block. i received this reply:
SO. each paragraph counts as a content block, and i’m only allowed 250 content blocks in one post. the solution provided was to reformat my fics by using shift+enter after every paragraph instead of simply enter. which is already unnecessarily annoying in of itself, but then you come to the second hurdle:
The maximum character length of a single text block is 4096 characters.
so–what?? besides spending my time writing thousands upon thousands of words, i’m expected to copy-paste it and then reformat everything, counting every single one of those words to make sure they fit within the restrictions? or i’m supposed to chop my fics up into multiple parts, even when i don’t want to? how exactly are writers supposed to write on this platform?? as you all know, my style tends to run pretty dialogue-heavy, so i start new paragraphs (and, thus, content blocks!!!) pretty damn often. i did a quick check, and let it snow, at almost 19k, is 550 paragraphs. with this new system, i would be forced to upload it in three (3!!!!!) posts! even my shortest chapter of ego, at 8.8k, is 350 paragraphs, and i’d have to split it in two.
this is honestly a formatting nightmare as a writer, and this is a decision that is liable to drive content creators away from the site and change fandom culture as a whole.
please. if you enjoy reading content on this site and want to continue enjoying content on this site, please don’t let tumblr make things harder for writers! since the tumblr team is supposedly eager to hear what everyone thinks, it would really help if you could message support and share your concern about the issue–maybe we can stop this disaster before it starts.
OKAY IF I FORGOT YOU PLS FORGIVE ME I JUST WOKE UP, i literally just went through who was in my recent notifs to make these 😞🤲🏻 almost all of these are their selfships too because i don’t have the brain capacity to think right now 😭
@kurooskult & kuroo
capitalists 💸💰🤑 the couple you see on your instagram feed and wonder where the fuck they’re getting all that money for dates 🤨 but as much as i claim that kuroo runs one of those online scam businesses, he just wants to spoil mila 😔
@babymattsun & mattsun
the couple that everybody is friends with, do we remember how they got together? no. they’ve just always been together and that’s what feels right. 😖 the universe simply said lexy + mattsun rights!!
@zumisace & iwaizumi
did selene bag iwaizumi or did iwaizumi bag selene?? 🤨 but honestly this relationship is iwa holding back selene from making dumb decisions but also being co cat owners together 😌
@novvabeam & daichi
parent couple 😖 where would we be without them?? dead probably. i would probably rely on them more than my own parents probably but they’re the couple the entire student body loves and we are here for it!!
@tsukisemi & tsukki
tsukki def needs sue in his life bc sue is just his lil sunshine ☀️😖 he def is happier around sue but his tsundere ass will never show it 😔 but you can tell, and you can tell how he smiles just a lil more with them around
@sunakissses & osamu
disregarding mr rintarō in ur url... osamu and val would just be *chef’s kiss* 👩🍳💋 their vibes would simply be immaculate, esp with their color schemes?? don’t ask that’s just a vibe i got he would definitely be whipped for val 😈
@zenmaki & kenma
CONSTANTLY trending on twitter. kenma’s fans love myra n as they should!! their cute couple moments on his stream are always trending on bird app ☹️ they def have compilations on youtube too
@archivednikes & semi
pls calm down and let the other couples breathe bc ur out here looking better than ALL OF US 😔 venus and semi r the couple the paparazzi can’t even comprehend bc they’re so good looking 😠 definitely have done a (few) vogue interviews together
@ats4mu & atsumu
atsumu got a good one 🤬 where would he be without jae?? literally the biggest simp on this earth and he is not afraid to admit it, he posts jae all over his social media, and even steals the official msby social media to post about them 😩
@lovesunas & suna
tina and suna,, what me and tsukki strive to be 😩 me and tina definitely make tsukki and suna put aside their differences just so we can go on dumb double dates 😈 hottest couple award !! even if suna puts in the bare minimum 🤨 leave suna 4 me bae
@deerixiie & nishinoya
feral. who let you two out of the house? somebody put them on their leashes rn. but they’re the type of couple to always have the fun dates 😪 granted, you’ll probably see them on snapchat running away from the police in a shopping cart, but def the fun couple!
@27kei & tsukki
is this a relationship or does les just control tsukki?? or is it the other way around 🤨 but they’re the couple u don’t mess with bc their vibes are just that superior to us all 😩
@rintsuru & oikawa
honestly, amy is the only reason oikawa isn’t dead yet 😐 they make sure to take care of eachother and is just a very soft and wholesome ship!! she reminds him to take it easy, and he def buys her all the boba she wants >:)
summary: you and terushima run off in the dead of night. (part of my hanakotoba series)
pairings: terushima x gen!reader
w/c: 904
genre/warning: arguing parents, slight allusion to abuse, hurt/comfort, i use red bull as a replacement for alcohol because i’m a holy child, severely unedited, angst to fluff
a/n: the ending is really rushed i know just pretend that it isn’t
listen: worldstar money - joji
You didn’t expect to be standing in front of Terushima’s bright red jeep on a chilly Friday night, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to generate warmth.
But again, this was Terushima. Nothing was expected with him.
Your parents were arguing again.
No matter how many towels you stuffed under the door, no matter how loud music blasted in your ears, no matter how many pillows you covered your head with, you couldn’t escape their arguing.
You drew your knees to your chin, staring at your phone screen. An innocent picture of you and Terushima stared back.
(“Someone take a picture of us!”
In a delirious haze ushered in by countless cans of Red Bull at 3 AM, you handed your phone to Bobata, your eyes widening when it almost fell out of his hands. Terushima wrapped his arm around your shoulder, dragging you to his side.
Maybe it was the Red Bull, maybe it was Terushima’s body heat, but you felt dizzily warm. Terushima pressed his cheek to yours, sticking out his tongue in his signature style.
Your vision flashed with a blinding, brilliant white.)
You opened your phone, scrolling to Terushima’s contact.
you- my parents are arguing again (delivered)
You turned your phone over, falling back on your bed. You heard a scream, followed by a shatter.
You picked up your phone again.
you- i’m scared. (delivered)
Your fingers flew across the keys.
you- i wish they’d stop
you- i want to get out of here
you- they’d never let me, though
(delivered)
The regret came swiftly, like every other time. He’s not going to respond, is he?
You slung your arm against your face, letting your eyes close.
Time passed.
(You don’t know how much.)
You felt your phone vibrate against the bed. Bleary-eyed, you rolled over and squinted at the phone screen.
yuuji >:P- look outside!! >:DD
You walked over to the window, pushing open the curtains. Your hand flew to your mouth.
Terushima’s bright red Jeep was on the road outside the window.
“Get in!” Terushima whispered, his voice laced with excitement.
You rubbed your hands over your elbows, shivering against the cold. “I-”
“C’mon, Y/n, they’re going to see.”
Sighing, you walked around to the passenger side and slid inside his car. It was warmer inside the Jeep, but you still had goosebumps running up the length of your arms. Terushima handed you a black hoodie. “Here.”
You smiled at him hesitantly, pulling the hoodie over your head. It smelled like motor oil and Red Bull.
It was comforting.
“Where are we-”
“Shhh. What song do you want?”
“Song? Oh.” You sighed and leaned your head against the window, relishing in the chill it provided. “Something loud.”
Terushima pulled the car into reverse just as a peppy rock song started blasting through the speakers. You hummed in contentment, letting your eyes close.
“Hey, Y/n. We’re here.”
Terushima poked your arm, his face inches away from your own. You sluggishly waved him off and pulled your head off the window. “Where are we?”
“Just come out of the car.” Terushima jumped out of his seat, jogging around to open the door for you. You step out of the car, already grumbling.
Your protests died on your lips.
Terushima had driven you two up to some sort of cliff. Behind you was a rocky path hooded by trees, in front of you was the skyline. From where you stood you could see the rows and rows of buildings and streets below, illuminated by the light emanating from various streetlights and shops. Above you was the inky blue sky, absent of stars but full of wispy dark clouds which occasionally covered the moon. The air was crisp and chillier than before, but you didn’t feel any more uncomfortable.
You felt calm for once. No screaming voices throwing insults, no objects shattering against the wall.
You took a steady breath.
“It’s...” you paused to search for the right word. “It’s so peaceful.”
“It’s been my secret place for a while,” Terushima admitted, glancing over at you. “You can’t hear them argue here, right?
You smiled softly. “No, it’s quiet.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Yeah, though it’s not that much of your secret place anymore, since I know about it.”
“Can’t it be our secret place?” Terushima questioned, tilting his head.
You swallowed slowly, a warmth creeping into your heart. “Yeah, I guess it can.”
Terushima continued, oblivious to the change in your heart. “We just can’t tell anyone.”
“Mhm.”
Your entire body was on fire. It couldn’t be the Red Bull this time, could it? It was freezing outside, it couldn’t be the air. Was it the hoodie?
“Can we keep what happens here a secret too?”
You blinked, turning to face Terushima. “Wha-Mm!”
Terushima closed the distance between the two of you quickly, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands reached for the back of your head, pushing you closer to him.
Your eyes closed, and suddenly you were back in the parking lot with Terushima, Bobata, and Futamata, cans of Red Bull littering the floor and your body pressed against Terushima’s. You remembered your heart racing, your body feeling uncomfortably warm.
It was Terushima, you realized. It has always been Terushima.
“It can be our secret,” you murmured against his lips, and you swear you feel his own heart race faster in his chest.
