Request Shit Yall Im Bored And I Gotta Get My 2023 Writer Juices Flowing Before They Freeze

i keep forgetting your user

The police were chasing me through an abandoned strip mall. I ran into the only operational store, which happened to be an extremely run down Taco Bell. The manager handed me a burrito and said it was a key. When I walked back outside the police were gone and the lights in the parking lot were turned on.

for my med school crowd (if i have one at all):

so i want to go to med school and become an er (but i’m open to other specialties as i know nothing about them so please leave info or suggestions?) but i don’t know if i’ll be able to do it and the journey seems hard and man i would just really appreciate any information encouragement help suggestions etc!

FUCK WHY IS HE SO PRETTY

Dragon fruit Plushie

HOT THINGS THEY DO

ATSUMU. wears his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. messy hair, toned stomach on display, he knows exactly what he’s doing. loves watching you try and play it off whenever he catches you staring.

SUNA. places his hand on your waist when in a crowded place. gently touches your waist in order not to startle you, usually followed by a muttered “watch out” as he moves past you. 

Keep reading

pairing: best friend!megumi x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, nothing else i think but please lmk if you find something

megumi doesn’t drink, of course, he’s too smart for that. because when megumi drinks, images of you that usually he keeps at bay flood his mind. you, skipping down the little dirt road in the park, occasionally bending down to pick the tiny strawberries that line the overgrown path. it’s you that megumi sees, bravely making conversation with complete strangers and petting their dogs and shaking their hands and megumi just doesn’t know how you do it. megumi enjoys his apathic reputation, he doesn’t care, why should he? but lately you’ve been making him overthink. when you ruffle his hair his usual scowl is usually accompanied by a blush that megumi quickly hides by turning away and pretending to fix up his hair. this mornings worries consist of how to ask you to go to that new restaurant that just opened up in town, without it sounding too much like a date. when he finally pressed send, he cringes at how long it took him to write such a simple message. your reply comes quickly, made known by a soft ping that megumi knows means it’s you because everyone else is set on vibrate only.

sorry gums not tonight, i’ve got plans :p, let’s plan for tomorrow

megumi tries to seem unaffected, though truthfully he hasn’t seen you for a week now since you’ve been studying for your med exam, and he misses you

k. he sends, then winces at how low that sounds, he knows gojo wouldn’t approve. deciding to go on a walk, megumi puts on his jacket and wraps a scarf that you’d bought him at one of the little boutiques in town around his neck. walking around the park that he usually accompanies you to, megumis heart drops into his stomach as his brain processes the scene before his eyes.

two figures are walking in the park, the setting sun casting warm light against their red cheeks. one of the two, tall, taller than he is megumi notes, with dark hair that seems to style itself effortlessly, is saying something animatedly to the other, who slaps him on the head. he immediately recognizes the latter, because it’s you. so these are what your plans were, or more specifically, these are who your plans were. megumis brain immediately begins to compare himself with your new companion, the way his cheekbones sit on his angular face, the way his hands gesture, and most sickeningly, the way he makes you laugh. has he ever made you laugh like that? has he ever laughed like that himself? megumi looks away and heads home, his hands shoved so deep in his pockets he hopes he isn’t pulling his pants down, turning from the scene that he’s sure will be running through his head for the rest of the night. he brushes away an invitation from yuuji for a pizza night, opting to sit in his dark room, periodically glancing at his phone and trying to force the images of you and someone else out of his mind. megumis phone dings again softly, and he is greeted with a picture of you and your companion at a restaurant, squinting at the banner behind you megumi realizes with a sigh that you’ve brought your date, me go mi supposes, to the new restaurant, the one that he asked you to. which brings him to now, sitting in front of the bar, drinking something that the bartender promised was strong. and it is, megumi doesn’t know how long he’s been there, minutes? hours? all he knows is he wants to see you, so his fingers sloppily swipe through his phone until he reaches your contact, pressing it with no second thoughts.

“gumi?” your voice spills out of the speaker and megumi smiles, letting out a little giggle, “gumi are you drunk?”

“nOoOOoO…” megumi stubbornly says, before whispering, “yes, but don’t tell y/n”

“gumi i am y/n” you say exasperatedly, “i’m coming to get you, don’t move.”

megumi stays as still as possible, keeping his eyes open until he inevitably blinks. when your car pulls up, megumi sees you walk quickly up to the door, brushing away a middle aged man that comes up to you doing his best smolder, scanning the room until you see megumi sitting there. megumi wonders how you can be so beautiful and how your eyes are so pretty and how your hair sits perfectly on your head and how nice you look.

“megumi stand up let’s go,” you drag him up from the stool, “a picture will last longer” you add with a wink.

“but you told me not to move?” megumi giggles again, but he’s dragged out of the bar regardless and stuffed into your car.

the ride is silent sans the wind blowing through your open windows and the occasional hiccup from a snoring megumi. the silence is broken however, when you hear the sound of the mirror on the sun shield in your car being opened.

“megumi?” you ask, wondering what in the world could be prompting him to check himself out at this moment. “whatcha doin?”

“figurin’ somethin’ *hic* out” megumi mumbles in reply.

“what?”

“why ‘m not good enough for ya.” megumis voice takes on a pouty tone.

“what? megumi what do you mean?” you wonder because though you know about megumis insecurities he’s always known he’s been enough for you.

“why’d you hafta find that *hic* guy,” megumi continues, “the one you were at the park with *hic* and at the restaurant that i asked you to” this last part is spoken accusingly.

“gums im sorry but we were hungry and it was the closest restaurant, it was really good, we should go sometime too, but you can’t be upset over that?”

“of course i am,” megumi sounds exasperated, “i don’t want some random guy with you all the time, makin’ you laugh and stuff,” he grumbles.

you fight to hide the smirk covering your face, “oh yeah? and why’s that gums?”

“because i love you?!” megumi shoots, and then immediately slaps his hand over his mouth, the alcohol in his system making his eyes open wide like in the comics.

”what did you say?” you ask quietly 

and megumis heart speeds up and he’s sure it’s broken the sound barrier 

what did he just say

he just told you he loved you 

he sits, deathly still, as your car continues down the road 

what did he just do

”megumi” your voice cuts through the silence like a knife through the silky tofu you two prepare together for your lazy sunday morning miso soup

”i just didn’t want you to regret…anything” you continue, your voice softer, “i don’t want you to make a mistake.”

megumi thinks this over in his head 

does that mean you like him back

what about the guy

what were you doing with him

”we can talk about this more when you’re sober gums” you sigh

megumi looks up to see that you’ve arrived at his house 

you open the door with a spare key that megumi had given you and with that the rest of the night goes by in a blur

he briefly remembers you urging him to brush his teeth and you kissing his forehead goodnight

which brings megumi to now, with the morning sun fighting to push through his tightly closed blinds and his head filling with memories of last night

he bangs out of bed, he can’t lose you, he knows he will after what he pulled last night, but he can’t he can’t lose you 

changing into his black pants and foregoing a top he starts for the doorknob but it twists open before he can reach it

your smiling but worried face stares back at him 

“good morning gumi, i hope you don’t mind i slept here last-oof” you begin but megumis wrapped his arms around you

just as quickly he recoils 

“i’m sorry about last night” he says monotonously, his eyes looking anywhere but you, settling on the carpeted floor  

you sigh, unwilling to tackle such a heavy subject so early in the morning, but doing so anyways.

“did you mean it?” 

megumi feels his chin being lifted by your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye

he stutters, rubbing his hands together nervously

”yes-i mean n-no well yes of course but i’m sure you don’t-i mean” he pushes your hand away and looks back down at the floor “forget it. i want you to be happy, i’m sorry i told you, i’m glad you found someone.” 

he notices how you look away and with that he awaits your inevitable rejection, for you to agree with him that while he’s great he’s just not it, just not who you’re looking for, that being megumi is just not enough.

instead, he’s greeted with the feel of your incredibly soft lips, how are they so soft megumi wonders but he’s not surprised, it’s exactly how he imagined them. your hands go up to his hair and all his dreams are suddenly coming true

you pull back smiling and flick his forehead “i am happy gumi, here, with you.”

megumis heart rate slows and speeds up simultaneously

you like him back.

you’re not leaving.

you like him back

“oh and gumi? that guy you saw me with is my cousin makino.”

you smile at his blush and the smile that he can’t keep off his face

he glares at you, “coulda told me sooner,” he grumbles, “would have saved me from this hangover.” 

you laugh and drag him back to the bed, snuggling into the blankets and megumi cautiously wraps his arms around your middle, searching your face for approval but your eyes are already closed, your nose nuzzling at his bare chest and your leg wrapped around his. 

“don’t worry, i love you too, dummy”

my sister had gall bladder removal surgery last week, and I owe $323. pic of the bill below for proof.

fortunately my insurance managed to cover most of it, but I still need help paying the remaining balance and money is very tight right now OTL

I would greatly appreciate it if anyone could reblog this around, thank you so much 😭😭

cash app is $reraimu

Venmo is @reraimu

PayPal is @reraimu

$130/323 as of 8/11/22

What’s your favourite fairly accurate science film

i wanna see usurper!gojo's courting shenanigans plsplspls

in which gojo satoru, your beloved king and betrothed, knows his time is best spent in your company riling you up.

gojo satoru x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k genre: fluff, royal au, childhood friends to lovers type: one-shot reader: fem (she/her pronouns, fem terms, fem clothing including dresses) warnings: once again hes pushy n the reader's a lil bit hesitant but hed stop if she rlly wanted, vague references to violence note: see i was gonna do a few lil scenes but the first one got away from me.... but basically the period of him courting the reader (which full disclosure isnt technically courting bc that should be happening before one proposes but this occurs while theyre engaged bc Gojo Didnt Get That Memo but i digress) is just him being WILDLY inappropriate for cultural standards, everyone silently pitying the reader, and the reader having a whole ton of conflicting emotions but ultimately rlly liking it 😭😭😭

usurper!gojo tag || masterlist

“they say you’re inhuman, you know.” you’ve finished the flower chain. his eyes don’t stray from your fingers as they nimbly connect the two ends and tie them together with a final stem into a thick circlet. “they said it a lot that night. they said you were the gods’ fury made mortal.”

he snickers. “how dramatic.”

you lift yourself up onto your thighs, shuffle towards him further and reach out, and he bows his head to let you place your creation upon it. your hand trails down when you let go, drifting over his ear and along his jaw as he lifts his head from its bow to look at you. you certainly mean to pull it away but his hand beats you to it, darting up to keep your palm against his cheek as you settle back down on the backs of your heels.

“i know why they came to that conclusion,” you say. “you terrified me when i saw you.”

“did you think me inhuman?”

you hum, eyes tracing along the band of flowers now gracing his forehead, falling to rest on his hand over yours. “no. never. monstrous, perhaps. odious. but very human.”

Satoru finds you out on the grounds, tucked away at the edge where the manicured gardens give way to rough forest. The weather has been turbulent, but for the first time since the coup there’s enough sun to stand being outside the castle longer than a scant few minutes. You’d said that morning that you planned to venture out, now that early spring flowers were beginning to bloom.

You’re cloaked in heavy furs, layers of skirts and wool protecting you from the cold, all elaborate garments that he’s gifted you. It's adorable (satisfying) to see you dressed up in his presents. He tells you as much when he finds you, delves into the treeline long before you see him so that he can sneak up upon you and whisper it into your ear to make you yelp and jump away.

“You mongrel,” you accuse with wide eyes and a hand on your heart as you work to steady your breathing. “Have you no respect for your future wife?”

“Ah, she admits it readily now? Progress.”

Your face twists as if someone has struck you. He chooses to ignore it and drops to sit sprawled out on the grass, beckoning unabashedly for you to join him on his lap. You won’t relent, he’s well aware, but he’ll have his desires known either way.

“Presumptuous,” you say. He'd die a happy man if you kissed him as many times as you called him that, but in lack of the former he’ll be content with the latter.

“Sit with me, my queen. I've missed you.”

“I am not yet your queen, Satoru,” you correct out of obligation. “You saw me an hour ago, we ate together.”

“Ah, but every moment apart is agony.” Satoru wonders if you know how serious he is beneath the breezy tone. From the way you wrinkle your nose, he doubts it.

“You have a meeting with your advisors now. You should not be out here.”

He pouts. “But you’re out here, and if I have to spend more time with those old fools than you today then I'll throw a tantrum tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, let out a sigh that sounds long-suffering, but you shift your skirts and ease yourself down to sit gracefully before him with your legs tucked next to you. His threats aren’t empty and you know it.

“Fine.” You look down, as if inspecting the grass, spreading fingers along the blades as you begin to pluck wildflowers. Then you pause and glance up at him. “Remove those… oh, whatever they are. Let me see your eyes unhindered, at least.”

“Anything for my darling bride,” he coos at you, immediately doing as asked. He’d have done so anyway, if only to watch you lose yourself in staring when he reveals his eyes, catching yourself once he blinks and snapping your head back to the ground to busy yourself once more with plucking your blooms.

“How do you see a thing through those,” you grumble lowly, certainly just to break yourself from being flustered. It works too well; Satoru immediately jumps on the chance you’ve given him.

“Would you like to try them?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for a response, mind already conjuring an image of you draped in every golden chain and precious stone gracing his chambers.

He removes them from his face, pulling the chain from around his neck, and swiftly transfers them to yours before you can refuse—tilts your head up to look at him and tugs your hair out of the way with deft fingers, eases the gilded extremities onto your ears and lets the pads of his digits linger on either side of your head before pulling away. Pausing in your work and tilting your head back down to peer at him over the top of the frames, you blink at him owlishly from behind the glass, unused to staring through it. Precious, he thinks, and wishes briefly to kiss you—but he has to be smart about kissing you, calculating. Too much attention too fast and you have a tendency to pull away from him like the ebbing tide. It's agony for him, wanting nothing more than to hold you as much as he wishes, but as much as he wants there’s very little he hates more than when you tense under his touch and turn away from him.

“They suit you better,” he tells you, because they do. You look good adorned with jewelry of his design. “You oughtn’t wear them in public, though, or all the courtiers will be scrambling to get themselves a pair. Just for me, I suppose.”

Your nose wrinkles at the mention of your newfound influence, eyes darting to the side and lower lip pouting, an expression that makes him cast aside all his convoluted schemes to ease you into his affections. He leans down to peck at your lips, kiss away the pout, gone before you can complain. It’s fast enough that you don’t immediately recoil and give him a lecture on decorum, or perhaps you’re simply getting more used to it.

Satoru’s attention doesn’t stray as you return to your work. You’ve gravitated towards flowers with long stems, he realizes; collected them in a pile on your skirts, which you seem to have deemed large enough as you pick a notably long one up and begin to string them together in a chain. You don’t bother removing his glasses either, simply allowing them to slide down to the end of your nose. The golden chain clinks softly with every movement of your head.

He wonders when you learned to make them. You’ve always been so careful about the skills you acquire, but he thinks perhaps your mother might have taught you. Or his aunt, for how much she loves flowers, and for how much of her time as queen (he’s been told anyway) was spent doing such frivolous things as making daisy chains in the gardens. You’re so very meticulous with your actions, every choice carefully constructed. He knows you’ve been doing that less and less around him—perhaps it’s finally sinking in that he cares very little about your actions, that he finds everything you do to be enthralling. More likely you’ve exhausted yourself trying. You’ve certainly exhausted yourself attempting to rein him in, though he’d like to believe you’re beginning to allow yourself to enjoy his antics.

Posterity, he thinks, will paint him as you do—bold, brash, uncaring of tradition, unapologetic in pursuit of a woman far beneath his status. There are a great many reasons you hesitate to marry him, he doesn’t blame you for your doubt. Certainly when he was younger he’d never imagined himself the type of man you’d end up betrothed to; he couldn’t count on his fingers the number of more suitable matches for the both of you in the eyes of society, but whereas in his youth he might silence himself and go along with the whims of his advisors he’s lost all sense of decency now. His close call with death and the coup he’d spent years preparing for had rid him of any desire to compromise, and he stands now in a position where he can certainly refuse the very people who once held sway over him. And you appreciate all of that, he knows it. It’s one of the reasons he adores you so; beneath your veneer of decorum lies not a lady but a queen with desires all too different from those you’ve been forced to portray. He’s always known this, and to an extent he can’t find it within himself to regret the events that have led him to where he is today because if they hadn’t transpired he wouldn’t have you.

Satoru remembers a time in his youth when his mother made a passing mention that she enjoyed a certain hairstyle on young girls—two long braids, tied with ribbons. For months afterward all the upcoming court ladies wore it diligently, yourself included. He found it painful to see on you until he discovered that they made a lovely way to pull your nose from a book and fix your attention onto him, and that he could tug on the ribbons at the ends until they unfurled and he could pocket them to return later by tying them around the necks of one of his hunting dogs and sending it after you.

(If he were the kind of man you’d marry without hesitation he’d feel remorse for his childhood actions. Instead he’s the man you will marry, and he plots how to steal one of your hair ribbons again and return it in the same way. For memory’s sake.)

“They say you’re inhuman, you know.” You’ve finished the flower chain. His eyes don’t stray from your fingers as they nimbly connect the two ends and tie them together with a final stem into a thick circlet. “They said it a lot that night. They said you were the Gods’ fury made mortal.”

He snickers. “How dramatic.”

You lift yourself up onto your thighs, shuffle towards him further and reach out, and he bows his head to let you place your creation upon it. Your hand trails down when you let go, drifting over his ear and along his jaw as he lifts his head from its bow to look at you. You certainly mean to pull it away but his hand beats you to it, darting up to keep your palm against his cheek as you settle back down on the backs of your heels.

“I know why they came to that conclusion,” you say. “You terrified me when I saw you.”

“Did you think me inhuman?”

You hum, eyes tracing along the band of flowers now gracing his forehead, falling to rest on his hand over yours. “No. Never. Monstrous, perhaps. Odious. But very human.”

“You wound me. I might die by your cruelty.”

“Die, then.”

Satoru makes a show of it just for you. Falling back to sprawl on the ground, he gags violently, stabbing at his own heart with an invisible knife and convulsing with his tongue hanging out until you shriek for him to stop, voice filled with giggles. He takes that as a cue to still, to fall limp as if truly dead with eyes fluttering shut—then beckons you closer.

“I need…” he rasps out, barely audible.

You indulge him and do so. “My king?”

“…iss…”

“What?”

“True love’s kiss,” he repeats louder, pursing his lips expectantly. He doesn’t truly think you’ll do it, and you don’t—you lean in like you will, but bypass his lips entirely and bite his cheek instead.

He yelps, just for you, just so you’ll feel accomplished. And so he can see your smile, hear the smugness in your voice as you say, “It’s a miracle, you’ve come back to life.”

But he doesn’t give you weakness for free. No, he snakes his arms around your waist before you can pull back, and uses the grip to all but pull you on top of his lap as he sits up. Perhaps it’s his lack of insistence on you giving him a kiss, or perhaps he’s simply started to break down your walls enough, but whichever it is you don’t protest. Instead you seem to find flaws in the flower crown you’ve gifted him. Your lips purse, hands coming up to fiddle with the blooms. He realizes that he can’t stand a single moment of your attention on anything other than him, even if your fingers are nearly tangled in his hair.

“If I return to court with a crown of flowers made by my lover still on my head, do you suppose they’ll think me less inhuman?”

Your face falls at the suggestion, eyes widening in mortification. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“It's far more comfortable than that heavy gold. And I happen to personally adore the artisan who made it, so—”

“I don't trust you anymore, take it off! You’ve lost the right!” You attempt to remove it, but he reacts with the very reflexes that make him so inhuman, uses that monstrous height to lift his head higher than you can reasonably reach, though it doesn’t stop you from trying.

“It'd be rude of me to refuse a gift, my queen.” Laughing, Satoru holds you back with ease, eager for the excuse to put his hands all over you while you’re too worked up to feel self-conscious.

“Not yet,” you wail. “Not your queen yet, you knave!”

“Mine either way, though,” he replies smugly with a playful tug to the chain you still wear. “Covered in my presents. It’s only fair that I get to display a token you’ve given me, no?”

“No, it is not. You’ve stolen all of my outerwear and replaced it with these, I've no other choice. But you will not return to your advisors displaying that—that childish trifle, I won't allow it, you will not expose to the court that I made such a thing for yo—oh!”

He tackles you to the ground, careful not to even knock the wind out of you, though he steals your breath the moment you’re safe in his arms by pulling you into a kiss to keep you from talking further. He’d intended it to be faster, but his nose crashes into the tinted spectacles still upon your face and he’s filled with such ardor that he can’t help but deepen it.

Your hand slides behind his head, threads through his hair. He feels you snap a single stem between your fingers. The crown comes apart just as he takes a moment to pull away, and the flowers fall to scatter in the grass beneath him, a halo around your head. There’s a little smile on your face, your chest huffs with quiet laughter, and your palm slides down to the base of his hair. You use that hold and your other hand, which has fisted his tunic, to yank him down and connect your lips again.

Above, a cloud passes. Satoru can feel the sun shine warm on his back, hear the wind in the budding trees, smell the bite of melting snow and the petals of your wildflowers, yet there’s nothing that could distract him from the feeling of your kiss. His eyes close, he pushes closer though he hardly needs to with the way you still tug on his shirt. His arm comes up to brace next to your head, just to make sure he’s holding his own weight rather than crushing you, and the other leaves your waist to trail down your thigh and grip beneath your knee, shifting your leg to hook around him. If your mouth weren’t occupied he thinks you’d be lecturing him for such an obscene display in a place where anyone could stumble upon you—so he does well to keep it occupied, refusing to part even as your grip on his tunic loosens and he’s forced to grab your newly freed hand to pin it to the ground with fingers intertwined.

It's the first time you’ve ever kissed him. He already plots how to push you into doing it again when he finally pulls away, eyes locked on your swollen lips.

messenger [tsukishima kei]

synopsis: you and yamaguchi are best friends with tsukishima. nearly everyday girls come up to the two of you to ask about the blonde and you both have had just enough. little do you know that yamaguchi has a plan of his own to get the chatting to stop...

notes: based off the sole fact that it's canon that girls only go up to yamaguchi to ask him about tsukki, which obviously means he's popular with girls. this was originally written as a stand-alone but i decided to submit it for lexi's @suckerforsugawara first time for everything collab! i apologize for how late this is, writer’s block got the best of me.

warnings: reader is very much in their head, angst at first but eventual fluff with good ending

word count: 4kei

for as smart as tsukishima kei is, he sure is oblivious to how girls flirt with him.

everyday a good number of girls around campus whisper and talk about how they find the blonde middle blocker attractive. about how much a good boyfriend he would make. it amazes you to no end how much the tall and silent type attract people. you could probably end up rich with how much you hear about him, because there's seriously not one day where you don't hear his name.

at first, most of the comments make you laugh. over time though, you begin to roll your eyes and scoff. you don't understand why so many people like him. half the time you see how tsukishima interacts with hinata and kageyama and it isn't in the nicest or most pleasant way. it just looks like a complete circus act. you truly feel sorry for daichi and suga.

tsukishima is just...mean. if you had a boyfriend who treated you like that, you'd dump him on the spot.

but maybe you are a hypocrite because while you think of all these things, you're still friends with him.

...if you can even call it that—you're sure tsukishima just 'tolerates' you. but the fact that you and yamaguchi are the two he spends the most time with obviously means something. he also begrudgingly helps you with your homework and walks you home from class all the time.

it means something...right?

today is no different from many other days as you watch hinata and kageyama get into a heated screaming match about god knows what. tsukishima is on the side snickering to yamaguchi. everyone else is helplessly by standing.

but you, on the other hand, are in your own little world. you're one of the managers for karasuno university's volleyball team. currently, you're filling up water bottles for the team. being in the role as manager, you've become a master at zoning out hinata and kageyama's bickering.

but you did not expect that this skill would one day work against you.

"hinata, kageyama! watch out!" ennoshita shouts, but it's already too late. you feel the unruly force of a volleyball hit you, making you drop the bottles you're filling up and spill water on the ground.

"are you okay?" yamaguchi rushes to help you to your feet, shooting the offending people a small glare. kageyama and hinata shiver at tadashi's gaze and begin to profusely apologize.

"i'm okay, yams. thank you." you dust off your clothes and laugh, "it's nothing i can't help when those two get carried away."

"we are so sorry!" hinata cries, nearly tripping over himself to get to you. kageyama sheepishly let's out a 'sorry' before his face flushes a bright red.

you open your mouth to assure them you're fine, but a certain voice beats you to it.

"are you two that incompetent that you'll take out our manager in the middle of one of your childish games?" the voice hisses. "i knew the two of you were stupid, but you both surprise me every day. i have to start lowering my bar more."

you don't have to turn to know who it is.

tsukishima turns to you, a displeased look on his face. if you squint, you can see his concern. "and you really need to work on watching your surroundings. i'd rather not have to take you to the hospital." he scolds, picking up the bottles from the ground. he swats your hand away when you reach out for them and you puff out your cheeks, frustrated.

he always does this, where you can't tell if he cares for you, or if he's just being mean. maybe you’re reading into things too closely.

you watch his eyes scan your figure intently and you flinch when you feel him touch you. your breath hitches at how close he is, close enough to see the specks of gold in his eyes from behind the lenses of his sports googles.

his hand gently turns your face to either side, "are you hurt anywhere?"

at the feeling of his hand on your arm, you feel it burn at the source of his touch.  you quickly recover and answer that you're fine. he studies your face for a moment longer to detect if you're lying but doesn't prod for any more answers.

not too far away does yamaguchi note the gesture between you two, but doesn't say anything.

the rest of practice runs by smoothly and you have practically forgotten that you were hit with a volleyball. before you know it, it's over and everyone calls it a day before filing out to the lock room.

tsukishima announces that he has to go somewhere after practice and for you and yamaguchi to not wait up for him. neither of you question him on his whereabouts because chances are he won't even tell you anyways.

as punishment for hitting you with the volleyball, kageyama and hinata are responsible for cleaning up the gym and locking up, which gives you the advantage of getting home early. down to two, you and yamaguchi start your trek home, the convo floating between school, volleyball, and other interests.

"yamaguchi-san?"

the two of you turn at the sound of a girl. she looks anxious and nervous and holds a pink envelope in her hands.

"hi! what can i do for you?" he smiles, green eyes bright and inviting.

the girl seems to gain confidence at yamaguchi's smile. "i have this confession for tsukishima-kun...but i don't know how to give it to him, so i was wondering if you would give it to him for me?" the girl explains shyly. her eyes shift to you and widen. "you're not dating tsukishima-san are you?"

your eyes widen at the accusation and you bust out a laugh, hard. maybe too hard.

"me? date him? i could never!"

after your embarrassing and short-lived laughing party, yamaguchi reluctantly agrees to take the letter to give to tsukishima. a strange feeling wells up in your chest at the sight, and you don't know why you felt disappointed in him doing so.

as soon as the girl leaves, you see yamaguchi's shoulders sag and his smile fades. 

"what's wrong, yams?" you nudge your best friend in the side, noting the way he picks at the skin on his hand anxiously.

"nothing," he answers, "we need to get going now."

you pull him back. "it's not 'nothing'. come on, what is it?"

you watch as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he replies, "i appreciate and care about tsukki and all, but it really sucks that girls only talk to me about him." he pouts, puffing out his cheeks.

"it's probably because you're much more approachable than mr. blonde beanpole." you suggest, shrugging your shoulders. "frankly, I don't know why or what people see in him. he's not very people-friendly. plus he always walks around with a scowl on his face. but i too wish they would stop asking us about him. what did suckyshima do to get so many confessions all the time..."

your freckled faced friend raises his brows, amused by your passionate rambling. "are you jealous?" he asks, head tilting in inquiry.

"w-what? no! why would i be?" you scoff, feeling your heart race in your chest. "the only thing i'm jealous of is that beanpole blonde's attention." you say. "i would very much like to be confessed to as often as he gets!"

"you would hate it," yamaguchi chuckles, "you don't even like getting attention. especially from guys."

you click your tongue, not knowing how to disagree with him. "maybe, but it wouldn't hurt to have it happen once in a while, you know?" you sigh, "i can't go my entire life without experiencing a confession!"

you must've had a terrible past life to have such an unlucky dating experience. you've never had a guy ask you out. and while you don't like to be arrogant you consider yourself cute and a decent person—more so decent than glasses-kun.

"well, more guys would approach you if it wasn't for tsukki." yamaguchi says, and immediately upon speaking covers his mouth.

you raise a brow at your friend, "eh? what do you mean by that?"

before he can answer, you huff, "you're telling me blondie is messing up my love life? what does he gain from doing that?" you huff, feeling irritated that the number of cute boys you could've encountered is very little due to the fact that they were being cockblocked by the most annoying person on the planet.

yamaguchi would never tell you, and god bless your soul, but he's forever thankful for how oblivious you are at times. his skin is saved from having to explain to tsukishima why his crush on you has been outed.

but on the other hand, he desperately wants these confession shenanigans to be over with and for the two of you to confess to each other. to him, it's painfully obvious that there are shared feelings but neither one of you want to acknowledge the fact that there's something going on. he'd rather take the risk of tsukishima biting his head off if it means you two will end up together.

"let's just say that the two of you complain about each other too much for there not to be something going on between you two." yamaguchi says. "i just wish you'd both make out with each other or something."

panic swarms you, at the meer thought of locking lips with blondie. "tadashi, i would never be caught kissing him. i'd rather be dead." you say sternly, although an itch in your throat tells you otherwise.

"yeah, i totally got the vibe of that earlier when he came over to see if you were okay." he laughs, rolling his eyes.

"it didn't mean anything, he was just oddly nice..." you argue, the rapid beating of your heart mocking you.

the sudden silence could be cut through with a knife as you two walk. your knuckles grip your bag tightly as you focus on your feet in front of you.

"your crush never went away, right?" yamaguchi stops walking and looks at you intently.

when you don't respond, he knows his answer.

"that's another reason why i don't like getting these confessions. i don't want to see you get hurt by all of this." he reveals, his hand gripping the pink envelope he was given earlier.

"it doesn't matter, though. what i feel is irrelevant.” you shrug.

yamaguchi perks up, a light bulb going off. he presses the envelope to your hands. "you give this to him. you can find out what he says about the letter and how it makes him feel. he might act differently. that way, you can also decide if those feelings for him are still there, or if you've moved on. if you haven’t, then confess."

you turn away, not taking the envelope. your feet then move briskly. "what makes you think that he would accept my confession? there's no way he would."

"what's stopping you?" he presses, following you. "you don't know that unless you try."

a sharp exhale of air escapes you, your nerves taking your own words out of your mouth. "because i don't want to make a relationship awkward possibly. besides, he'll just make fun of me for having a crush on him and then reject me. so no way is tsukki going to accept it."

"he wouldn't do that. and you know he wouldn't. look, we both know tsukki better than anyone else does. i'm surprised at how blind you are to how he feels about you. or maybe you're denying it?"

before you can reply, you realize you've reached your apartment.

"just think about telling him? it'll ease your mind somehow, won't it? at least you'll have your answer and you can stop letting this eat at you the way it has for years." yamaguchi says, concern written on his face.

you sigh. "sure, tadashi. i'll think about it."

you don't get a wink of sleep that night. and despite you wanting more time to think, you are meeting up with tsukishima and yamaguchi to hangout the next day. so even if you want to put off your thoughts about the situation, you can't.

"you look like shit," tsukishima says once you sit down at the cafe the three of you always meet up at. "like a zombie with the life is sucked out of them.”

“wow, how did you guess?” you say, response dripping with sarcasm.

a guilty look appears on his face before he changes it to a softer expression. "here, i already ordered for you." he says, pushing your favorite order across the counter.

"oh, thank you. you didn't have to." you reach into your bag to pay him back, but he pushes your hand away, a grimace on his face.

"yeah, well i did anyways." he says, turning away. a faint hue of pink can be seen across his cheeks. “you should really try not to over exert yourself. we can’t afford to have our manager collapsing.”

you stare at the drink, mind rambling. “right…”

tsukishima distracts himself with the time, noticing how late yamaguchi is. it isn’t like him to be late. once the male checks his phone, everything clicks into place.

"tadashi says he won't be able to make it to the movies." tsukishima tells you, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

"really?" you go to pull your own phone out of your bag to check, but something else catches your eyes first.

the pink envelope.

you gasp, gritting your teeth. "tadashi, you bastard..." you hiss, wondering when he slipped it into your bag.

"yeah, something about feeling sick..." the tall man's eyes slide down to look at you, and as attentive as he is he asks, "what are you grumbling about?"

you eyes glance between him and the letter, panic washes over you as you try to improvise a lie.

tsukishima leans over, peering into your bag. “what is that?” he asks.

solemnly, you hand him the pink envelope. cotton has lodged itself in your throat but you manage. "this...this is for you."

“from?” he questions, but he already knows it’s not you. you don’t dot your i’s like that.

“the usual. some girl with a crush on you.” you answer, “she didn’t know how to give it you directly.”

opening the letter, his brown eyes scan the contents carefully, silence overcoming him as he drinks in each word.

meanwhile, your heart races rapidly. you can feel yourself beginning to spiral in your mind, thinking of all the possibilities of what could happen next after he finishes reading the letter. instead of hearing anything, the blonde simply puts the letter back in the envelope.

“let’s go.” he says, standing up to leave.

wait...that's it? you watch him leave the cafe and scramble after him, confusion trailing you.

when you catch up to tsukishima, your eyes glance at him, trying to gauge anything. something.

"well?" you ask, brow arching up.

"'well' what?" he replies, staring at you expressionless.

"are you...going to accept?" you prod, leg bouncing.

the man seems to contemplate your question, not answering for a moment. the anticipation is killing you. swallowing you whole. you have to say something before you’re buried alive.

"don't accept that confession." you blurt.

"huh?" the blonde slips the envelope in his pocket. "and why not?"

you shift uncomfortably in your spot. "b-because."

"'b-because', isn't an answer. i hope you're aware." he mocks before stepping closing to you, a sly smirk on his face. "why do you look like you're about to throw up? is the thought of me getting a confession that repulsive to you?"

"shut up!" you hiss, the burning in your cheeks spreading like wildfire now. "i never said that."

"you didn't have to. your face said everything that i needed to know." he replies, "why are you so eager to know anyways?"

you shrug, "i mean, we're friends right? why wouldn't i be curious?"

a soft chuckle leaves him. it's pretty, and pretty looks very good on him. how annoying for your nerves. "right, and let's say i do accept the confession. what would you do then?"

you blink, your hands clammy, body scorching at this point. "dunno, maybe throw a party with a sign that says 'congrats kei, you're lovable after all'."

"you're a horrible liar, you know. it's very annoying." tsukishima scowls, grabbing your wrist and turning you to look at him.

"who said i was going to accept the confession?" he tilts his head to the side, leaning in slightly. "hmm? i think you put that idea in that pretty head of yours all by yourself."

you huff, irritated by his teasing manner."it's not funny to joke like that."

he blinks. "when did i make a joke?"

"you always do...i don't understand you, tsukishima." at this point you can feel your face burning up. you look away from the blonde, frustrated and also internally panicking. when you go to walk away, his large hand catches your wrist, pulling you back.

"so now we're back to tsukishima?" he asks, distaste in his tone.

you bite your lip, too scared to say anything.

he clicks his tongue. "listen, i didn't have to read the letter to know my answer. i didn't even need to receive one. i've already had my mind made up."

a soft 'oh' leaves your mouth. "is that right?"

"yes, because i already have feelings for someone." he confesses, and your heart nearly stops.

you weren't expecting this at all. you bargained for more than you wanted, but it’s your fault and your fault alone. you start to yell in your head about how wrong yamaguchi is, about how you're too late to confess now, because someone else has already stolen—

"this is for you." tsukishima hands a eerily similar pink envelope to you with a small plushie. your eyes widen as you look at the plush, recognizing that it's your favorite animal. you remember talking about how you still sleep with stuffed animals and made the mistake of having tsukishima overhear you. the teasing that day never ended.

when squeezing the plush to you, you're surprised to hear it play your favorite song. reading the letter, you recognize the handwriting as his immediately. you're familiar with how he loops his y's and g's. you recognize the eloquence in his words. but you feel alien reading how he pours his emotions—about you—into words. words that are a lot kinder and sweeter than his usual moments.

"why would i joke about my feelings?" he answers, pulling at his hands, fingers fidgeting. "if you don't reciprocate them—"

"no! i-i mean, yes! yes, i do!" your face is on fire at this point. "i'm just shocked, i-i wasn't expecting—"

"for someone to be into someone like you?" he finishes.

you blink, stunned by his response. "well, yeah."

and tsukishima kei does what tsukishima kei does best.

he flicks your forehead.

he rubs the spot where he flicked your forehead and his gaze becomes soft as he stares at you, his large hands not pulling back from how it gently cradles your face.

"i've been into your annoying ass since you yelled at those bullies for picking on tadashi." he mumbles, a fond look in his eyes.

your eyes look over him rapidly. "i don't get it. how? why?"

he pinches your cheek, rolling his eyes. "you keep saying that and it's really annoying." he continues, "it's simple. you're...you're a much better person than i am. you're smart...and funny. and you understand me even when my words don't always say what i mean. you've pushed me to be a better person." he tries to make himself smaller, wanting to escape his vulnerability, but it's hard when you're a walking lamppost.

"i can't stand the sight of other guys looking at you. at thinking they have a chance with you. call me a hypocrite because i know i'm the last person who deserves a chance with you, but—" he cuts himself off, fiddling his his hands.

"but what, kei?" you push, heart pounding.

"but i want one anyways. i've never felt like this with anyone before and i don't want to stop now. i...i'm willing to take the chance to ask to go out with you...even if i know you deserve better than me." he explains, head bowing low.

this time, you reach up and flick his forehead.

"ow? what the hell, dumbass?" he scowls.

"it's annoying when you do that, too," you say, teasing, "you always undermine how brilliant you are and it has to stop. you may be an asshole, but you're also perceptive, and caring, even if you don't really know how to show it in conventional ways."

he doesn't say anything because he knows you're right.

you speak again. "for the record, i think that you're pretty amazing. and a lot of other people think so too. learn to give yourself more credit, kei."

"i can say the same about you." he says, brushing hair back from your face. his eyes shift down to your lips before looking away just as quickly. his single strand of vulnerability left snaps.

"c-can i kiss you?" he stutters, and you're shocked to see the snarky blonde asshole you know in such a shy state.

"yes," you breathe, "please."

he can’t resist when you ask so nicely and look so pretty right in front of him.

and what you learn is that kei's kisses are sweeter than any words that can come out of his smart mouth. how that is possible, you don't know. but you surely don't mind at all.

he tugs you close to his body, his scent overtaking your senses. he smells like mint and whatever cologne he put on today and it's easily your new favorite aroma.

you pull away and can't help but note how pretty kei looks after kissing. hair disheveled, swollen lips, glossy eyes, and glasses nearly falling off his face. you quietly laugh and push the frames back up his face.

"i love you, you know." you say, holding his face.

he leans into you, kissing your palm as he reciprocates the words in a quiet voice. a quirk in his lips and he adds, "i would hope you do. i don't want to be seen having to return to build-a-bear for a second time to return a bear."

you grin, holding up the bear teasingly. "this plush?"

"oni-chan said i should give you something...that you'd appreciate. it's yours as long as you don't replace me with it." he answers, red creeping up his neck. "if you do, i'll return it."

"don't worry, kei. i promise not to replace you with a stuffed animal when i need cuddles." you latch onto his arm, clinging to him easily. he tugs you impossibly closer.

sending yamaguchi a text thank you and a picture of you with your new bear—now named tadashi—with an annoyed tsukishima holding you tight in the photo. 'new family photo! you were right!'.

yamaguchi only grins at the message, laying back on his bed as he smiles. his work as cupid is over. he'd figure out the third wheeling issue later.

for now, mission accomplished.

do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though! (c) 2022 hyeque