⋆♱ ⤿ 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐀’s rules &. masterlist ⟡ carrd 📁 a filo nursing student who writes to stave off their disease called yearning. haikyuu-centric sfw blog but is also multi, doesn’t accept requests nor tolerate spam liking (!!!)
running on #tsukkiqueue, feel free to block the tag to remove your favorite asshole from turning into a soft cuddly baby
recently: neighbor!iwaizumi part. i &. tsukishima kei parfum d’étoiles
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interactions are welcomed and encouraged! always drink your water & have a nice day xo
fuckckckckfkckc bro i was supposed to finish ur birthday fic LAST year happy late! birthday goat ill have it done by the time ur 25 trust me❤️❤️❤️ ur fit was cute af btw
LMFAO I MISS YOU SM ☹️ i dont mind waiting i’ll still be here even when im 30 I HOPE UR DOING WELLLLLL 💞💞💞
— “do i really need to be shirtless for this?” hajime asks gruffly, sitting neatly on your dorm floor as you write on a piece of tape, godzilla t-shirt tossed unceremoniously on your bed.
your anatomy exam is coming up, and you’ve been studying like your career depends on it (spoiler alert: it does), but you’ve been going batshit crazy just staring at your notes. so what better way to get off the books than to hang out with your boyfriend?
“yes,” you reply, placing ‘pectoralis major’ on his chest. “it wouldn’t work the same if you had a shirt on. active recall, visual learning, and such.” “right,” he mutters, brow furrowed as he watches you. “so…?” “so, flex your deltoid,” you demand. “c’mon, haji. this is important.” he flexes his shoulder obediently, looking away as you stick another label on his body.
you’re kind of surprised hajime agreed to this in the first place; though honestly, you really didn’t give him much of an explanation, simply texting him, “come to my dorm @ 10pm,” with no further instructions. you laughed when he called at 9:42 saying he was at the building, having to hold it in as you led your bright-eyed boyfriend into your room.
“you will be to blame if i don’t pass this,” you tell him, revelling in the slight twitch of his body as you slide a finger over his skin to pat down the adhesive. “right. can’t have that,” he says under his breath. you snicker. despite his reluctance, he’s not angry. maybe just disappointed. you’re not worried, though. he’d get what he came for soon enough.
sneaking a glance at him, you quickly scribble ‘teres minor’ on another scrap of tape. hajime’s ears are bright red, but his bottom lip is pursed up and his jaw is tight. tell-tale signs of his enjoyment.
“i know you’re a little embarrassed, but i need you to lift your arm up for me,” you tell him sweetly, tape hanging from your fingertips. hajime lets out a flustered grumble in reply, dim light highlighting hard planes of muscle as he accedes.
“it’s kind of itchy,” he says, after a moment. “well, it’s tape,” you answer matter-of-factly, pasting ‘frontalis’ on his forehead, then look at him doubtfully. “also, you need to stop scowling. you look cute when you’re not scowling.” “‘m not scowling,” hajime says under his breath, but his eyebrows relax immediately. you bite the inside of your cheek. cute.
another couple minutes pass by as you continue to stick labels on him, humming a tune while you treat your poor boyfriend like a whiteboard.
“...how long will this take?” hajime asks, stiffly, two pieces of tape hanging off the hollows of his cheekbones. you stretch out, making a big show of checking the clock on the wall. it’s almost midnight. “i’m basically done,” you reply. “i’m not going over the accessory muscles.”
hajime tilts his head, narrowing his eyes knowingly at you. “yeah, just wanna know, so i’m not peeling gemellus inferior out of my butt tomorrow,” he remarks wryly. you mirror his expression, enthused. “hah. i forgot you know this already.”
hajime pinches your inner thigh playfully. it doesn’t hurt—he could never hurt you—but you yelp anyway, more tickled than anything. “hey, i’m pretty smart, you know,” he reminds you, smoothing over the subtle sting with a callused thumb.
you scoot over towards him, running your hand down the label reading ‘rectus femoris.’ “i know you’re pretty smart,” you say, gaze locked on his, “otherwise i wouldn’t allow you to be sitting shirtless on my floor.” you pull, and the screech of tape being taken off skin is the only sound in the room for a second.
the sudden dilation of his pupils makes you laugh through your nose. “oh, that’s all,” hajime says lightly, body hot under your touch. “because i’m smart.” “and muscular,” you add, leaning over him as he sits back on his forearms, watching you intently. “mm, that’s part of it?” he asks, voice just breathless enough to make your stomach tighten.
“yeah,” you murmur, hooking a fingernail under ‘external oblique.’ your eyes drop to his bare chest, then drag back up to his face as you smile. “do you take a makeout session as gratuity for your model work?”
hajime swallows, his jaw fluttering. a blush blooms over his cheeks and he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i thought you called me here for,” he mumbles, warm hand coming up to rest on the curve of your lower back as you giggle. “c’mere.”
he peppers your face with soft kisses, leaving wet marks. your laughter fills the small room when you feel something sticky on your cheek.
“haji, i can’t take you serious with that stuff on your face!” “take it off, then!”
hello. folks. birfday post 4 me and him cuz we junebugs like dat
˚✶ * returns and future pick ups
or someone comes to return some books before you close for the night
tsukishima k. x gn!reader
m.list / wc: 1k
the lights on the far end of the library automatically shut off, leaving only half an hour of work left until you could head back to your dorm. there’s only a couple students left, all studying at their respective tables. tapping the eraser end of your pencil against the check-out counter, you bite the inside of your cheek, counting down the time until you can leave.
slowly, a couple of them make their departure, the next set of lights shutting off for the evening. closing your eyes, you smile knowing that you only have fifteen minutes left. opening your eyes, you glance at the last person in the library, his back turned to you. turning away from him and looking back down at your homework, the numbers start to jumble, a wave of tiredness taking over.
“okay.. that’s enough,” you whisper to yourself, setting down your pencil before standing up to sweep the nearby area.
it isn’t necessarily your job to be cleaning up the library, however, it gives you something to do in between the slow periods. the individual’s typing echoes in the library, the sound bouncing off of the bookcases and into your free ear. the only thing breaking it is the door to the library opening, a stressed student standing with books piled in his arms.
your eyes widen at the sight, hand aimlessly resting the broom’s handle against a table. walking across the room, you can feel your confidence growing, “is there anything i can help you with?”
a head tilts to the side of the books, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. “i found these books and i believe they were meant to be returned here,” he starts carrying them over to the check-out table, the weight of the textbooks seemingly not too heavy for him.
“you found them?” you question, raising your eyebrow as he sets them down on the counter, hands resting on your hips.
“yeah.. my roommate moved out unexpectedly and i think he left these behind on accident,” the mystery student pushes his glasses back up his nose. his short blonde hair spikes at the top, slender fingers pulling his backpack straps closer to him.
nodding, you walk around to the other side of the counter, pulling out your chair so you can check the status of the books. “well, sorry this return fell on you then. if you wouldn’t mind staying here while i scan these in..” you look up from the computer, meeting his gaze, “just in case some of them aren’t our books.”
“right. yeah, as long as you’re open,” he shrugs his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“we’re open. i’m just hoping i can get these all scanned through before we close. not the most exciting when you work the library’s closing shift,” you admit, grabbing a scanner and scanning in the first one, an older textbook with the barcode starting to peel off.
the air feels tense as you continue to scan the books in, your eyes constantly glancing up to look at him. he stands there with his arms crossed, gaze flickering back to you every few seconds. “do you come to the library very often?” you break the silence, scanning another book.
“i don’t have a lot of time to,” he shrugs, leaning against the counter, his knuckle pressed against the top.
“well.. it’s a great place to study, and i’m usually here if- you know if you ever needed someone who knows their way around,” you grab the final book, scanning it back in, all of the books seemingly originally coming from the library.
he nods, looking away for a second. glancing back, the mystery man gives a small smile, “yeah, yeah that would be great. i’m sure you have great books on paleontology.”
“paleontology? yeah, actually. i know a lot of the students in that program and there’s usually a few that are in rotation. my next shift is tomorrow if you want to come check it out,” you push the books off to the side, signing off of the computer so you can start closing the library down for the evening.
piling your stuff up, you shove it into your backpack, looking around to see the last patron had left during your conversation. “so, do you go to school here, then?” he questions, standing by the check out counter as you peer down the many walkways, making sure no one was left in the building. taking a few steps between each bookcase, you glance around for fallen books as well.
“yeah, library science actually. so if you have any dewey decimal questions then i’m the person to ask,” you smile, walking back up to the counter, throwing your backpack over your shoulder.
“neat,” he whispers, just barely loud enough that you heard it, the quietness of it all bringing a smile to your face. the two of you slowly make your way to the library doors, not quite wanting to end the evening yet, a spark lighting between the two of you. he reaches past you to open the door, following you out of the building.
“well, i guess i’ll see you around then…”
“it’s tsukishima, my friends just call me tsuki though,” he—tsukishima—shrugs again, hands shoved back into his pockets.
“well then i will see you around tsuki, thanks for returning those again, i’m- we’re all really grateful to have them back,” you lock the door behind you, rain lightly hitting the concrete walkways.
the two of you start in opposite directions, your dorms seemingly on other sides of the campus. just as you’re about to turn the corner around the building, you hear him shout to you from across the way. his hair is matted down from the rain, glasses covered in droplets. “i didn’t catch your name!”
“it’s l/n! just ask for me at the desk!” you wave to him, reaching your hand back down to hover over your eyes, protecting your face from the rain.
“will do!” tsukishima turns back around, smiling to himself. the smile quickly falls as he thinks back to every embarrassing thing he muttered out during the interaction, eyes rolling at his own behavior.
i really like what the casualness of it all entails, with tsukishima kei as a disguise to the most hideous yearning he has of you. even after years of a breakup, he still use your name to test new pens. wear the same shade of green you told him he looks best. follow the same artists and blast it and wonder if you’re still into them. feel the same cologne from nobodys and buy something similar, just enough to make him chase the feeling of being hugged by you. and even if the redness of his cheeks has vanished every after getting drunk and his circle of people have stretched into the unknown pieces you have in him, he claims all these as his, all your habits and all your love as something he’s born into. because who else should carry such a wretched thing if not the very person you’ve chosen to haunt?
what a fool he’s become, acting in his own grief and the only audience is him. and if he ever learns to walk away from the play, part of the music will rot inside him forever.
121224 ♥︎ drunk tsukishima kei and his insistence of asking you why you love him.
it's already close to midnight when your husband of two years ask you all of a sudden. he's warm, and hazy with alcohol. you're absentmindedly treading your fingers through his soft hair, the floral scent from his shampoo is irresistible. you inhale slowly and plant a small kiss on his scalp.
"why do you love me?" his head buried on the slope between your neck and shoulder, breath a little warm that tingles your skin as he sigh through his nose. you feel his hold on your hip tighten, palm smoothing the crease on your shorts as he travels down to your thighs, giving it a loving squeeze.
you resist the urge to laugh in amusement. you hear your clock from the nightstand tick faintly, the low hum of the ac ebbing and flowing in the silence. you think about the myriad of ways you could respond, yet in all of them, no amount of words will ever reach its essence. no matter how you say it, it will never be enough.
instead, you ask him back, voice low as if you’re whispering, "what's not to love about you?"
he grumbles, and you can almost imagine the little pout surfacing his pretty lips, “do you want me to barf at your sappiness?”
“i’m serious.” you say as you fight a smile.
“prove it.”
“sorry?”
he finally looks at you, a long pause with slow blinking, his hand leaves your thigh, reaches up to brush his knuckles against your cheeks. the ring on his ring finger feels cold against your warm face, light catches gold—are you talking about the ring, or his eyes? maybe both?
you’re a little tipsy yourself. you might as well just kiss him right now because your mouth always fails you to shape your love in the form of words. you’re not eloquent enough to mold a perfect sculpture of sentences, you’re not capable of holding onto a voice but it’s ironic how you’re able to carry a weight of a ton of actions—and you think, maybe he doesn’t need you to be perfect with words.
maybe he just needs you to say it, you love him for all that he is.
you capture his hand, locking your fingers through the gaps and kissing it while holding your stare. such beautiful golden brown who only ever looks at you like this. you don’t want to look away, you want to keep him forever, like he’s a promise you love to keep.
you feign a scoff, “fine. if you want specifics. i love you because you give me challenges, the ones that pisses me off in a good way, the ones that make me a better person, the ones that make me think differently.”
“i love how you argue with me about the smallest things, like which way the toilet paper roll should go, just because you know it gets a rise out of me. i love the way you silently leave the last piece of your favorite snack for me, even though you act like you don’t care.”
“i love that you fold the laundry so badly on purpose just to get out of doing it, and how you mutter ‘you’re welcome’ when i fix it.” you see the slightest of twitch of his brows. guilty.
you rest both your intertwined hand on your chest, hoping he can feel your beating organ.
“i love how you complain about the dishes but still wash the ones i ‘accidentally’ leave in the sink. i love how you steal the blankets at night but always drape them back over me when you think i’m asleep. i love how you sigh every time i forget my keys but still wait by the door to hand them to me, no matter how late i’m running.”
“i love how you can be so stubborn and sharp with your words, but you never let the day end without sitting next to me, even if it’s in silence, just to make sure we’re okay. i love how, after a fight, you pretend to not-so-subtly leave fresh fruit cuts on the counter or let me pick the movie, even though you hate my choices.”
“you choose horror all the time.” he comments without thinking, and you chuckle.
“i love that you can’t handle it. because you can’t help but cling to me after.”
at this point, your voice wavers slightly, the memories tugging at your chest. “i love that, even when we hurt each other, you always find a way to show me you care. you never say it outright, but it’s in the way you stay. you always stay, kei.”
your voice soften as you look at him, his golden eyes searching yours with a quiet vulnerability. “is that good enough of a reason, kei?”
he was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable, before scoffing softly. “you’re so dramatic.”
right as he bury himself in your scent, lips on your neck that inevitably makes you shiver, you can see his ears turn red—and you think it’s the alcohol, but maybe it’s also because of your sappy shitty monologue. maybe its both.
your head feels lighter, a pleasant buzz on your veins and a thudding heart that can’t quiet itself, maybe you want the world to know just how much you love this man— and to make it even more sappier, he’s your world. it should be obvious by now.
you are dramatic. “hehe, that’s why we’re here. that’s why you love me.”
ever since you became his highschool sweetheart, you didn’t change as much. at least, to his eyes, you remain the love he’s always wanted.
and the things you do to him, for him. leaves him drunk with want. your name on his lips sits like a prayer, a letter of promises forever to keep—committed to keep.
the ends of his lips curl into the faintest smirk, his blush deepening as he muttered, “maybe.”
after a few quiet shifts in position, you both comfortably settle in each other’s arms for the night. he closes his eyes and yet, he can still see you in perfect resolution, as if there’s a screen behind his eyelids. replaying the memories with your words ringing his ears.
he remembers his first kiss with you before he falls to sleep. saw your eyes glossy and glowing, he never told you this but, he wanted to marry you by then. wants you to give him that look everyday, wants your beginnings and your tomorrows.
and—oh, he already has it. huh. wow, he still can’t believe you love him after all these years.
