ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ

rae // 20

[wandurrlust]

𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨.

rae // she, her // intp // 20

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🪻a.n - do not repost / plagiarise my work on any platform. likes and reblogs much appreciated :)

[wandurrlust]

is there an oikawa simp in your dms bc I'm the oikawa simp in your anons pls break my heart

idk about the oikawa simp in the dms but i do know for a fact that i am very much going to break your heart ❤️

[wandurrlust]

FEED ME 👹👹 !!!

😭😭😭 I have a whole plot and all in my head but the writing part just isn't happening

but, bringing smth grand for you SOON (idk how soon)

[wandurrlust]

sometimes I want to eat your writing (read: all the time)

that's...quite a compliment lmao, you're always more than welcome to eat my writing though just make sure to not egest it out by any means 🥹

ALSO GUESS WHAT? YOUR NEXT MEAL IS IN PROGRESS HEHE

[kyorru]

jjk crazy bc yuuji should’ve been at the nationals!! he should’ve been playing volleyball!!!

[wandurrlust]

❝ 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞. ❞

masterlist

timestamps :

14:27 - k. akaashi [f]

20:58 - m. osamu [f]

oneshots :

hating you - k. akaashi [f]

each time you fall in love - m. osamu // r. suna [a]

[wandurrlust]

each time you fall in love

pairing : osamu x y/n, suna x y/n

genre : angst

cw : established relationship, implied (emotional) cheating (?), mentions of cigarettes

words : 1.8k

a/n : i really hate the way tumblr drafts glitch

When you're in love, you see it everywhere — on the coffee stains engraved within your favourite mug and on the rain soaked windows in the middle of the night. You see it in your reflection through your tear soaked eyes and you see it in the text from Osamu that says can we talk about this tomorrow?

You blame love when you're unable to sleep, because it hurts — it feels like your heart is being ripped right out of your ribcage and your lungs are being set on fire. Love is war, they say. Love is war, you know.

You love Osamu — you love him like the rain loves the ocean, like summer loves pink and like roses love sunshine. You love Osamu when the days are bleak and blend together with the night, you love him when the stars grow dull and the sky gets grey.

You love Osamu, except for when you don't. Except for when he's loud — when it's a crisp October evening outside but ice cold inside his apartment. When you're walking away, tears on your skin with his scarf around your neck — a promise of you'll never see him again.

You love Osamu. But you hate him when Suna welcomes you home, when you catch a whiff of coffee beans that almost put out the lingering scent of half lit cigarettes.

And when the credits of your favourite movie start rolling past Rin's laptop, you stifle a groan. Debating if telling him all about everything that went down today was worth it.

Did you fight again?

And there it is, you're telling him everything there is to tell. Because the softness in Rin's voice lets you know he cares and you know he cares far more than he'll ever admit.

Suna listens. He listens as your fingernails begin to press against your palm and he listens through the tremble that falls past your lips. He doesn't comfort you, not once.

He doesn't pull you close or rake his fingers through your hair. He doesn't whisper sweet nothings till you fall asleep in his arms. Because that's a line he'd rather not cross.

And that's okay, because that's how it's always been.

Suna is the home you retire to every night after work, one you'd built all by yourself. Suna is your best friend. But sometimes you wonder if you're his.

Osamu doesn't like Suna.

When you hear him say this for the first time, you laugh it off.

Are you jealous, Samu?

It's asked between breathy kisses and conjoined limbs, with his nose nuzzling the skin under your neck. And truth to be told, you don't want to know the answer.

Me jealous? Of Suna?

He whispers through your hair, not quite liking the sour aftertaste that lingers in his mouth at having uttered Suna. You find it bemusing, how Osamu refers to Rin by his last name despite having played on the same team as him all throughout highschool. Aren't they supposed to be the best of friends?

Not a chance sweetheart.

The second time he tells you this, it's bitter. Venom drips through his heavy voice and almost spills onto his vanilla skin — his words feel like thorns against your bare stomach, you think you're about to cough up blood.

Why is it always him over me?

Osamu knows that you probably think he's gone mad. But he can't help himself, not when it comes to Suna.

Samu, are you being serious?

He has to brace himself before he can face you again, do you seriously think he's making all of this up?

No sweetheart, of course not.

It's accompanied by a humourless chuckle, and Osamu feels his feet buckling beneath his weight. He should calm down. But fuck.

You don't understand what he's trying to get at. And quite frankly, you think he's being fucking unreasonable.

Samu what the fuck. Rin is my best friend.

And you can't imagine a life without Rin in it. Because for as long as you can recall, he's been there — looking over you from the stands.

But Osamu can't stand him — he's never been able to. Because Suna has always been sweeter, calmer, better. He's everything Samu could never be.

Rin is your best friend, but Samu doesn't like how the two of you stay up and night, talking to eachother. He doesn't like how you're looking for Suna after a long day. He doesn't like how good the two of you look together.

Right now, Osamu wants to push you away. But he can tell there's a lump in your throat and isn't going to die out any time soon. Because when you're angry, you cry.

Rin is your best friend, but when you're falling apart that night, it's in Osamu's arms.

Samu is there for you in ways Rin isn't. He pulls you close and kisses your hair before lacing his fingers with yours. You pull them to your lips. You don't want to let go.

I'm sorry, he whispers against you. It's fine, you say. Because with Osamu, it's always fine.

Rin is there for you when Samu isn't, when he hasn't been answering your calls for a week and when you're losing your fucking brain.

You're sat beside him on his apartment balcony, the tiles shoot chills through your body it stings against your skin.

You scrunch your nose up in order to keep up with the grey puffs of smoke above your head. You watch Suna inhale one, two, three drags of the cigarette held between his fingers.

The air between the two of you is silent. Neither one makes an attempt to break it down, you think it's better this way. And you think that's why you like being by Suna so much — he doesn't talk too much.

You extend your hand towards him, and he lets you grab the cigar from within his fingertips. His eyes flick to your mouth as you bring the cigarette to your lips and for a moment, his world comes to a halt.

You take a long breath, allowing the nicotine to take over your body, it tightens your chest and you let out a cough — cold and deliberate. Still Suna makes no attempt to make you feel at ease.

I thought you didn't smoke anymore.

Your voice is hoarse, it's the first thing you've said in six hours. There's no answer and honestly, you don't expect one. You let your eyes wander to the city lights underneath you, it reminds you of home — of Osamu. Of how he would wrap his arms around you and promise you the world every time he could.

Oh, I don't.

Fuck, you miss Osamu. You hate how you've been trying to reach out to him for days at an end now, only to be met by silence. Is he okay?

When the chill wind hits your scalp, your stomach sinks in. What if Samu decided he was finally done with you. Your vision begins to blur and your head hurts. Love is hell.

Bullshit Rin, you're a liar.

It's said through your teeth and pierces him like a dagger. He takes a breath to steady himself because it feels like he's about to fall.

Sometimes you wonder if Osamu sees you everywhere, if he loves you as much as you love him — if he loves you at all. But when you weave your fingers through his hair to lull him to sleep, you know it's futile worrying about useless stuff like that.

You know Osamu loves you.

Suna watches as your phone lights up, he watches as your eyes graze over the screen and your lips curl upwards. You let out a breath of relief and put out the cigarette on one of the tiles sitting on his balcony.

It's going to leave a stain, but Rin knows he isn't going to have the heart to scrub it off, it's a piece of you after all. One that he hopes he'll get to keep with himself for a long, long time.

He says he got caught up in some family stuff.

The words startle Suna, because he'd almost forgotten that there were people in this world besides the two of you. That there was Osamu, someone he could never win against. He'd forgotten that you weren't his, that no matter how little the gap between the two of you was, you'd never be his.

You aren't going to give him hell?

And you wonder why you aren't. You wonder why you'll always let Osamu walk over your heart and crush it into a hundred pieces, why you'll always hold your arms wide open for him to bury himself into, why you'll forever mutter an I understand despite wanting to rip the hair off your head.

He's probably already going through hell, Rin.

Suna’s chest constricts as he watches you bid goodbye to him. He doesn't know why but something about you leaving tonight makes it all seem so permanent, like he'd never get a chance to witness your presence beside him ever again.

He thinks he might pass out as he watches you finally step into the elevator, because even though he'd made you promise to not get into any trouble on the way to Osamu’s apartment, he knows it's nearly impossible for you.

Suna is your best friend but you forget all about him when you're watching it pour outside through the windows of Osamu's apartment.

You're sitting on the couch, lost in the haze like lovers on a Sunday morning. With Osamu, it's coffee breath and starlit nights, it's listening to Matty healy curse through the speakers and dancing around the living room with your lips drawn together.

Osamu is a promise, you believe; one that you'd made to yourself when you were seven, one that you hope you'll never end up breaking. He's a poem you'd written on your seventeenth birthday, he's the fire that lights up your lungs on a cold winter evening.

When you're in love, it feels like you're about to die. It's too good, too much. It feels like you're falling but you let yourself slip — because you know you'll have your lover waiting for you on the other side.

You love Osamu, you love him like he's your last breath and you love him like a silent prayer.

But when you're wishing Rin a happy birthday, he goes dizzy. Because he thinks he'll love you forever.

[wandurrlust]

20 : 58

unassigned assigned seats — they'd always fascinated osamu. they'd fascinated him because he could never fathom how sitting at the same place everyday didn't bore the hell out of people.

it's rush hour at his restaurant and it's even more crowded than usual today. there's clatters of culinary scratching the ceramic and loud laughter from a group of teenagers who are here for lunch. the thin walls of the restaurant vibrate each time there's a beat drop in the song that's blasting through the flimsy speakers. all this noise is giving him a headache.

and then, you walk in.

you with your eyebrows furrowed and an unamused scowl on your lips, you in your light pink shirt and pencil skirt, you who's always stuck to the tuna mayo from the menu and you that always chosen the seat right beside the large glass windows that osamu made sure were devoid of lousy fingerprints.

your eyes scan over the crowd of people and his gaze follows your line of vision. there's someone on your seat — your unassigned assigned seat. this makes your temple hurt. and osamu almost let's out a laugh when he sees you audibly sigh as you walk over to the queue.

you decide you're going to get a take out and have your lunch at the office today. but right as you narrate your usual order to the girl at the other side of the counter, you watch osamu miya — the owner of the restaurant stride over to your seat and ask the guy sat there to politely switch places.

we actually have this seat reserved for someone else , you hear him say.

and when you're walking over to the said seat with your tray of onigiris in hand, you can't help but shoot a smile at him.

osamu's cheeks heat up, he smiles back and excuses himself.

unassigned assigned seats — samu thinks he might be starting to understand just what's so special about them.

next time, he makes sure to ask you why exactly you loved the seat beside the window so much — and if his guts permitted, for your number.

[throttlee]

🤘🤘🤘

[wandurrlust]

14:27

Keiji sighs as the seemingly endless notifications continue to flood his phone. He decides to set the novel he's currently reading on the coffee table and switch off the device for once and for all. It was annoying really — the overly cheery happy birthday texts that his obnoxious classmates sent him.

That's right, today was the fifth of December — Akaashi Keiji's birthday.

It's not like every other birthday, though. Keiji usually doesn't huff in annoyance as his so-called friends spam the groupchat on his very special day — because you'd tell him how ignoring texts was rude.

Did you forget?

But you're not here this time and Keiji lets his disappointment get the best of him. It's only fair, isn't it? There hasn't been a single birthday he's spent without you, afterall. Fifth December has always been reserved for the two of you.

No, no, no. That couldn't be it. Surely, you wouldn't forget his birthday of all things, right?

He pushes himself off the wooden flooring and pinches the bridge of his nose — Keiji can feel an oncoming headache and he hates it.

Where the hell are you?

The shrill ringing of the doorbell around his studio apartment catches Akaashi off-guard — was it you at the door? Since when did you start knocking?

Keiji's ready to grumble and tell whoever it is that decided to show up at his door to mind their own damned business. Behind the hinged piece of wood however, stands a sight that quite literally makes him let out a squeal.

The furry creature dashes right through his studio apartment, yelping and sniffing around it's new environment.

Keiji turns to the door and a breathy chuckle escapes him — there you are, sporting a crooked smile with your frame clad in an oversized jumper.

He raises an eyebrow as you finally regain your breathing and step into his apartment. He's awaiting an explanation.

You sheepishly rub the nape of your neck, awkwardly maneuvering your arms over his lean frame, "Lilac wasn't cooperating Keiji, happy birthday."

Lilac. So you had named her already — despite having known just how much he'd have loved to christen your newfound company. But God, he can't bring himself to be mad at you.

So he lets your arms wrap around his frame, mimicking your actions and mentally slapping himself. Ofcourse you wouldn't forget his birthday.

Fifth Decembers were reserved for the two of you, afterall.

a/n : i'd actually written this for akaashi's birthday last year but oh well :') wanted to come up with some quick angst but yeah no. anyways, happy birthday to the bestest boy ever, i wholeheartedly love you keiji :) have a great one <33

[wandurrlust]

hating you

pairing : akaashi keiji x reader

genre : academic rivals to lovers (?)

words : 1.2k

a/n : if you've read this before, it's cuz i'd posted it before but then took it down...my bestfriend forced me to made me repost it :)

Akaashi Keiji loves hating you.

He loves the subtle frown that takes over your otherwise smooth skin as the teacher dismisses your answer and permits him to speak over you.

He loves the way your eyes narrow down to slits as they rake over the unbelievably large crowd that has somehow gathered around the school's volleyball team - effectively causing you to push past numerous people just because you want to use the washroom that is on the other side of the hallway.

He loves being the first and probably the only one to notice the scowl that sits on your lips as the entire gymnasium howls with joy because Fukurodani has scored against the opponent team thanks to an excellent setter dump.

He loves being the cause of your sour mood because you'd come second in class - only next to him.

He loves the exasperated sigh that finds its way past your lips as you're told that this assignment has to be done in groups of two and the person sitting next to you just happens to be Akaashi himself.

He loves the way you roll your eyes as he slams some bills on the top of the wooden table of your favorite snack bar because the library was exceptionally crowded today and you simply needed to get this project done before Tuesday.

He loves the defeated groan you emit as you throw your head between your palms because you practically got nothing done in the past four hours but he had somehow managed to complete the entirety of his share of the damned assignment.

He loves how you discreetly flip him off with your middle finger because he chose to occupy the seat next to yours. On a fucking Monday when he knows you're bound to be late. You loathe Mondays.

He loves the shade of crimson that paints your face and makes it glow abnormally under the cafeteria lights as you almost spit out your lunch when you finally process what Bokuto has asked you: Are you and Akaashi a thing now? I barely ever see him anymore unless we're at practice.

He loves how you're forced to thank him for dropping you off at your front door because you chose to ignore the weather forecast and didn't carry an umbrella with you today and much to your luck, its pouring like hell.

He loves how you both suddenly have a group of mutual friends and you're all paying a visit to the ice cream parlor that stands a few meters away from the school campus 'cause you all deserve some time to unwind after that hell of a week of midterms all of you had to go through.

He loves the unintended giggle you let out as he cracks a super lame and admittedly cheesy joke that even has a few of your classmates booing.

He loves the sceptical look on your face as he finds himself holding the glass door ajar - for you to pass by before whispering, "This isn't very comfortable for my arms, hurry up."

He loves how the both of you are vaguely growing close.

He loves the faint whispers that surround the two of you as you bump your shoulder accidentally against his while the both of are walking beside eachother and are heading to class - together.

He loves the soft smile you shoot his way while you drop all your stuff on the glistening surface of the library table that has him seated on the opposite side.

He loves the faint tint of pink that suits itself upon your skin as you bid eachother goodbye.

He loves the butterflies that flutter around his ribcage as he tells himself that he'll be seeing you again tomorrow.

He loves how you randomly show up at practice one day and congratulate the team on their recent victory over Nekoma whilst urging them to call it a day as you had promised to treat him to onigiris if they managed to win.

He loves the unamused groan that rings through the class upon hearing your decision to team up with him for the upcoming debate competition because 'it simply isn't fair if two of the smartest people of the class team up together'.

He loves how you try to mask up the tiny gleam of disappointment that settles itself upon your eyes with a broad smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes upon realising that he introduced you to his parents as just a friend from school who was there to get some stuff done.

He loves how you let his arm wrap around your shoulder and pull you into a little side hug the second his bedroom door shuts itself with an ungodly creak - a gesture that quite literally translates to 'I don't know where we stand but you're definitely more than just a friend from school'.

He loves how you don't hesitate to counterattack his point with your own despite the fact that you're both a part of the same team when you finally start studying after bickering for what seems like eternities.

He loves how you rake your fingers through his soft hair and hum in response when he asks if he needs to get it trimmed as his head rests on top of his desk - worn out from the sheer hard work the both of you had indulged yourselves in since the past couple hours.

He loves it when your eyes snap up to meet his cerulean ones when your geography teacher calls out for him in class - for it isn't exactly his strongest subject.

He loves seeing you throw your head back with laughter as a response to something Konoha has said - unaware that the lad was doing a fair job of entertaining you as he let some of Keiji's embarrassing stories accidentally slip past his mouth - glad that you're getting along with the rest of the team.

He loves the cheery thumbs up you shoot his way as he scores a point against his teammates in a three on three match, shrieking at him to do it again.

He loves it when you assure and reassure Bokuto that you'll be there for the sleepover that Bokuto's hosting at his place this Saturday, cringing upon encountering the loud cheer that Bokuto lets out upon hearing your answer.

He loves the dainty shade of pink that dusts your cheeks as he steals a glance at Bokuto's messy kitchen just to see what exactly Kaori, Yukie and you are upto - his own skin mimicking the flimsy shade of crimson upon realising that the girls were wiggling their eyebrows as you loudly pondered over what would be an okay thing to gift him as a present for his birthday.

He loves how you scoot a little closer to him on the couch as a jump-scare in the horror movie causes you to flinch by the slightest.

He loves tight embrace of your arms around his torso when you're informed by your teacher that the one who came first in the class this time wasn't Keiji but you. But you quickly retract yourself because you realise the awkwardness and irony of the situation - you had afterall studied relentlessly for this test with Akaashi.

Akaashi Keiji simply loves hating you.