#filed under: tsukishima kei

[tcringetourney]

here is the official tcringe tourney bracket! the first wave of polls will go up tomorrow. since this is such a large bracket, i’ll be rolling out polls in waves of 8. the first round will be open for a week, with waves dropped on a one-day delay! and under the readmore, you’ll find a transcribed list of the bracket. be warned, there are 128 characters here!

Left side:

Scout (Team Fortress 2) vs Maximus (Tangled)

Crona Gorgon (Soul Eater) vs Kevin (Up)

Dirk Strider (Homestuck) vs Raine Whispers (The Owl House)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb) vs Dismas (Darkest Dungeon)

Harrier DuBois (Disco Elysium) vs Ellzor Umberspore (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Shiver (Splatoon) vs Miss Frizzle (Magic School Bus)

Marik Ishtar (Yugioh) vs Tumblr Anon Profile Picture (Real Life)

Asa Mitaka (Chainsaw Man) vs Tadashi Yamaguchi (Haikyuu!)

Penny (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet) vs Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Link (Legend of Zelda) vs Kaname Date (AI: The Somnium Files)

The Collector (The Owl House) vs Venti (Genshin Impact)

Luz Noceda (The Owl House) vs Magne (My Hero Academia)

Yes-Man (Fallout New Vegas) vs Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney)

Reigen Araraka (Mob Psycho 100) vs Kuina Hikari (Alice in Borderland)

Doug Eiffel (Wolf 359) vs Jesus (The Bible)

Me (Real Life) vs Leorio Paradinight (Hunter x Hunter)

Fabian Seacaster (Dimension 20) vs Briar (Branching Out)

Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls) vs Alex Fierro (Riordanverse)

Castiel (Supernatural) vs Waluigi (Mario)

Ivankov (One Piece) vs June Egbert (Homestuck)

Mr. 2 Bon Clay (One Piece) vs Sokka (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Ur mom (Real Life) vs Leo Valdez (Riordanverse)

Pyro (Team Fortress 2) vs The Dragon (Jane and the Dragon)

Crowley (Good Omens) vs Eddy (Duolingo)

Emperor Belos (The Owl House) vs Peter Parker (Toby Maguire’s Spiderman)

Sweetheart (Omori) vs Nick Danforth-Evans (Julie and the Phantoms)

Jerma (Real Life) vs M&Ms (Real Life)

Kajiyama Fuuta (Milgram) vs Jeremy Heere (Be More Chill)

Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die) vs Ena (Ena)

Isaac (The Binding of Isaac) vs Allied Mastercomputer/A.M. (I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream)

Ranma (Ranma 1/2) vs Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

Fred Grant (Hamster & Gretel) vs Benrey (Half Life VR AI)

Right Side:

Spy (Team Fortress 2) vs Varian (Tangled)

Sanji (One Piece) vs Milhouse (The Simpsons)

Gonzo (The Muppets) vs Hero (Omori)

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) vs Makoto Naegi (Danganronpa)

Hardwon Surefoot (Not Another D&D Podcast) vs Mina Zarei (Paranatural)

Bugs Bunny (Looney Tunes) vs Sabine Wren (Star Wars Rebels)

Deuu Dino (CNP) vs Nightblood (The Cosmere)

Benny (Fallout New Vegas) vs Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Alphys (Undertale) vs Angel Devil (Chainsaw Man)

Dave Strider (Homestuck) vs Elliot Dunkel (El Goonish Shive)

The Onceler (The Lorax) vs Chuck E. Cheese (Real Life)

Buggy the Clown (One Piece) vs Hinata Tachibana (Fabiniku)

Jake English (Homestuck) vs Kris Dreemurr (Deltarune)

You (Real Life) vs Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu!)

Tome Kurata (Mob Psycho 100) vs Neptune (RWBY)

Ianthe Tridentarius (The Locked Tomb) vs Osiris (Destiny)

Vash the Stampede (Trigun) vs Fox Mulder (The X-Files)

Evan Kelmp (Dimension 20) vs Paracelsus (Darkest Dungeons)

Bocchi (Bocchi the Rock) vs Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

Haruhi Fujioka (Ouran High School Host Club) vs Bakugo (My Hero Academia)

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) vs Luther (The Umbrella Academy)

Fujisaki Chihiro (Danganronpa) vs Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Sniper (Team Fortress 2) vs Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Space Boyfriend (Omori) vs Zirk Vervain (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Rouxls Kaard (Deltarune) vs Robbie Rotten (Lazytown)

Ranboo (Minecraft Youtube) vs Arthur Dent (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)

Sakurai Haruka (Milgram) vs Luke Patterson (Julie and the Phantoms)

Hunter (The Owl House) vs Dib (Invader Zim)

Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad) vs Wheatley (Portal)

Grell (Black Butler) vs Viktor Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

Shut (Go Princess Precure) vs Kakashi Hatake (Naruto)

Wonderlands x Showtime (Project SEKAI) vs Rodney Copperbottom (Robots)

#tcringetourney #tournaments #not polls

[maliciouslove]

𝙃𝙖𝙞𝙠𝙮𝙪𝙪! — 𝙢.𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

⦿ Tsukishima Kei

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

#haikyuu.exe

[tobiomlk]

hello!! can I have some Tsukki fluff hcs?? like cuddling, hand holding, etc? good luck with your blog 💖

— tsukishima fluff headcanons

we all know tsukishima is more of an affection through actions rather than words kind of guy. he’s main love language consists of acts of service, gifts, and that occasional, lighthearted tease and sass of him. you know the one.

him and his perpetually emotionally constipated ass are physically incapable of being remotely straightforward with his feelings so he resorts to bullying and such inappropiate methods to cover up the awkwardness, but when he unconciously lets out his genuine admiration and appreciation like it’s the most matter-of-factly thing in the world? unmatched.

it earns him lots of sleepless night wanting to die out of embarrasment afterwards but it’s ok it’s what He Deserves.

not the biggest fan of pda that’s for sure, but for some reason he tends to be physically near? you don’t have to be necessarily touching each other, he just stands closer than the usual.

he’d never admit it openly, but he seems to enjoy having your presence around, even if words aren’t being exchanged. there’s just something so intimate about spending time alone together, without any communication other than the one expressed through glances and body language.

prolly because he’s never the one to initiate anything, but it feels so out of character for him to do skinship so he just kinda avoids it… if anything, he pretends it’s a nuisance just so he convinces himself he’s doing you a favour by not bothering you with his affection.

but at the very end, he always obliges. be it sooner or later, he’ll end up indulging himself with some small gestures of affection. don’t let him fool you, he’s a softie.

tsukishima holds hands so nonchanantly— it’s one of the few things he won’t hesitate to go for. he always make sure to interlace your fingers, and to squeeze back whenever your squeeze the grip first.

now kisses are a whole different matter. they’ve their own file and it’s almost sacred. tsukishima’s kisses are nothing if not shy. for most of the part he can’t bring himself to do it, and when he finally musters the courage, they’re quick and a bit clumsy. even the smaller ones such as a peck on the cheek makes him go severely flustered, honestly it’s even cute!!!

his go-to are forehead kisses tho. he’s not even sure why, it just feels Right.

cuddling with tsukishima is an extremely rare occurence and therefore hard to experience, but oh, trust me, it’s so worth it.

he’s the supreme big spoon by default LISTEN i don’t even make the rules in here. he doesn’t need to try hard to make you feel like you belong in his arms.

however sometimes he just wants to  have it the other way around and he wordlessly rest his head over your chest and will Die if you go and run your fingers through his hair.

if he ever does it i hope you know it’s because he feels comfortable enough around you to let his guards down :(((((

he also has this thing in where if he’s feeling very burned out he’ll lean his head against yours and when you ask him what’s wrong he just goes “recharching. i’m almost done.”

sometimes he’s just clingy as fuck and sometimes he’s just annoying as FUCK there’s no in between. tsukishima has (2) moods.

this lil shit probably gives you an unflattering nickname just to spite you when the situation calls for it, but with the years it grows on both of you as a genuine term of endearement… shut up im gonna sob.

despite clowning you on the daily, everyone who has met the two of you can tell tsukishima has clearly a soft spot, if not by the way he only listens to you nicely… the yearning, tender gazes he offers to you when he makes sure you aren’t looking… how quick he’s to cave in when you’re the one trying to talk some sense to him… listen the boy is whipped leave him ALONE

#anon #answered #ok i got insanely sappy with this one but can u blame me #im diagnosed with im love him :(((( #tsukki is a good boy too much of a lil shit but GOOD #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima headcanons #thank you sm for requesting nonnie !!!!!!! you can have my heart JKHD #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x you #tsukishima x you #haikyuu headcanons #the moon #filed under: karasuno #filed under: tsukishima kei #filed under: headcanons

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

------------------

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

---------------------------------------------------------

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#haikyuu!! #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu anime #haikyuu angst #osamu miya #osamu scenario #osamu imagine #haikyuu osamu #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #akaashi #haikyuu akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert

[kouomi]

Golden Touches

Summary: Everyone is born with marks that turn gold when your soulmate touches you. How could meeting someone for the first time turn into meeting your soulmate? (F!Reader x Tsukishima Kei)

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1,558

A/N: sorry for getting this out late! I don’t think this is my best work as it’s the first thing I ever wrote for Haikyuu but here it is!

My Masterlist

Posted: March 26 2020, 6:15 PM EST

(Pic that inspired this)

Everyone was painted with colors. Each individual was their own canvas that had splotches of paint splattered across their skin that almost looked random had you not known what they meant. That’s how your parents explained it to you, at least. When you’re born your marks are black which are how most people’s are, but when a specific person touches them they turn gold; this specific person being your soulmate. The marks were where the hands of your soulmate would touch you for the first time. The most common mark people had was small streaks on their hands or arms where their soulmates hand would graze their skin temporarily, some had their palm painted black along with the shadow of fingers on the back of their hand, and some even had a hand print or knuckles painted on their cheek where they’d inevitably be hit. Everyone’s was unique to them, and they each held their own future story.

You stated at your marks everyday, always wondering if today would be the day they’d go from black splotches to lovely sparkles. Your marks were much less generic than most, a large handprint angled with the tips of the fingers towards your shoulder splayed across the front corner of the base of your neck, your collarbone, and the top of your chest. It was rather unusual and the way it was positioned made it seem like they’d be behind you which confused you even more. You were happy to have a unique mark as it made the moment you’d meet them feel more special, but it constantly left you wondering about the conditions of when you’d meet, what situation you’d be in where that would be the first place someone would touch you.

It was a rather warm day as it was nearing summer so you’d left the top buttons of your uniform unbuttoned and let your jacket slip off of your shoulders and hang loosely around your elbows. Your eyes lazily skimmed over the crowds of your classmates, jealously spiking in you every time you saw someone with gold splashed across their skin instead of black. Very few people met their soulmates in high school and you envied those that were so lucky as to do so.

“Y/n!” You look up and find Yachi waving a hand in front of your face. “Can you come with me to the volleyball practice after school?”

“Hm? Why?”

“So we can work on the project after school,” She reminded you and you inwardly cringe at the mention of it, “We still have to finish it before tomorrow.”

“Sure, I’ll be there.” You answer, watching as a wide smile crosses the blondes face.

“Great, see you there!” She waves before heading down the stairs and getting lost in the crowd.

A heavy sigh leaves you as you pull out your phone and put in your earbuds, clicking on your playlist and letting the noise of your favorite song fill your ears. You did your best to ignore the stares of others as you made your way to the cafeteria, though you always knew they were there. You’d gotten used to being stared at by people who were examining your soulmate mark but it never made it any less annoying. You’d had some of these “admirers” come up from behind you and not so graciously lay their hand on your chest trying to match up to your mark, always landing a slap to the face after they did so. You didn’t know how many times you’d had to tell them off that it couldn’t be justified just by what they claimed was curiosity but it never changed anything.

“Hey Y/n, what’s up?” Hinata asks with a small wave.

“Hi Hinata, Kageyama.” You greet, slowing your pace for a moment so they can catch up to you. “I’m gonna be at your practice today.”

“Why?”

“Yachi and I have a project,” You reply “what, do you not want me there or something?”

“What? No!” Kageyama exclaims making you and Hinata laugh.

“Calm down I was joking.”

The three of you continue to poke fun at each other all the way to the cafeteria, especially you and Hinata making Kageyama mad as it was easy to do so with the quick tempered setter.

“Do you two ever stop fighting?” Another voice says as they approach your table. You turn around and find two boys, one a very tall blond with glasses and an annoyed look on his face and the other a more timid looking boy with green hair and freckles.

“Who’s that?” You ask your friends as the new boys sit down.

“This is Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.” Hinata says, “They’re on the volleyball team.”

“Hi!” Yamaguchi greets with a welcoming smile, “nice to meet you.”

“You too.” You reply with similar smile.

The other boy, Tsukishima, doesn’t say anything, only glances at you before looking back at his food. He seems like to be the quiet type, his silent judging stare would probably warn off anyone else but you found it amusing. Your eyes scanned them for their soulmate marks, finding them after a few moments. Yamaguchis was mostly covered by the sleeve of his shirt but you could slightly make out the edge of a black mark around his wrist and on the back of Tsukishimas hand you could see a smaller black hand print, the mark going around the side of his hand so the thumb was on his palm.

“Do you make a habit of staring?” The blonde asks, making you look up from his hand as he pulls it away, hiding it out of sight under the table.

“Curiosity’s natural.” You shrug in response, smirking when his expression flashes to shock before he covers it with slight disgust. He clicks his tongue, his eyes temporarily flashing down to look at your mark before he looks back to his food.

After lunch your evening classes dragged by, none of your teachers words sticking to your brain as you watched the clocks hands slowly tick by. Finally after what felt like hours the last bell rang and let you out of your final class, filing into the stream of students exiting the school. As everyone else left you stopped at your locker, leaving your books inside before heading towards the gym where volleyball practice was held. You stared down at your phone as you walked so you couldn’t see anything else around you, the world around you practically lost to your senses.

“Watch out!” A voice yells, forcing you to look up and see a volleyball flying towards you.

You freeze up as the ball cuts through the air, your feet planted in the ground though you knew you should move out of the path of the object. You’re suddenly yanked to the side by someone who was behind you, your phone being knocked out of your hand and to the ground by the sudden movement. Their hand was firm on the front of your body as their arm was crossing your body having pulled you into themselves just as the ball slams into where you were standing seconds before. Your hand flies up to grip theirs, your heart pounding at the close encounter.

The person behind you quickly retracts their arm making you turn around, surprise taking on your expression as you see who’d saved you.

“How could you be so stupid as to not move out of the way of the ball flying at your face?” Tsukishima asks with a scoff, leaning down to pick up your phone. You were about to snap back at him, a rebuttal on the tip of your tongue though it’s quickly lost when you see the once black hand that was on his had turned gold.

“Are you just gonna stare at me again?” He scoffs as he reaches out to hand you your phone, his eyes widening when he sees a flash of gold on your chest.

Almost simultaneously you look down at yourself and he looks at his hand before you look back at each other’s marks and finally at each other.

“No fucking way.” You whisper to yourself, seeing the shocked look in his eyes.

It’s dead silent between the two of you for what feels like a lifetime, his hand still holding out your phone as you both try to figure out something to say. How could he be your soulmate when you’d only met this morning? Had the universe somehow made a mistake?

Tsukishimas eyes bare into your from behind his glasses as for once he finds himself at a loss for words, trying to piece together how this was his soulmate. He doesn’t know you. There was nothing forcing him to talk to you or start a relationship solely based off of the marks. Yet,

Yet there was something pulling you towards him. Something in you was drawing closer to him, taking your hand and dragging you along. There was some part of him that had sparked something in you, and whether it was just the surprise of your soulmate marks or it was a genuine feeling, you found yourself giving into it, a smile crossing your face.

“Tsukishima, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He responds, still processing what had happened, “You’re the weirdo duos friend.”

“It’s Y/n. We’re...”

“Soulmates.”

You both smile.

“Soulmates.”

#tsukishima hcs #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #hq tsukishima #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x you #kei tsukishima x reader #Karasuno #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyū!! #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x you

[tobi-momo]

You Belong With Me

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei x Reader GENRE: Romance | Fluff | Angst (?) | Comfort (?) | Mutual Pining | Slowburn | Confession WARNINGS: tsukki has a toxic gf | cursing | ooc? | implied infidelity (not you or kei) | prolly more sry WORD COUNT: 2k A/N: this fic is HEAVILY based off of You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift- if you've seen the music video this is like it but my way 😌 uhh i hope you like it <3 oh also pls don't cringe it'll hurt my feelings

“What was she so mad about?” Your voice bleeds through his phone as he scribbles on his homework with his number two pencil, sighing at your question. He looks up briefly to his window to see you at your desk across your two properties’ filing the papers for your math class, organizing your work. Your phone is sandwiched between your shoulder and your ear, your eyes narrowed as you focus on what assignments are what.

“Kei?”

He shakes his head as his mind snaps out of the daze, his golden eyes flicking down to his work. “Uh,” he sighs as he re-grips his pencil, “I teased her a little bit and she got mad,” he finished. You chuckled before covering your mouth with your hand, finally looking up at the man through your clear panes.

“You’re kidding,” you giggle, a smile leading onto Kei’s face while he listens to your voice, although refusing to look up at your face, he shakes his head in a joking dismissal.

“No, I’m not. But we are never mentioning it again.”

“Oh, good luck getting me to keep quiet!” You shout as your back straightens against your desk chair, a smug look playing on your face once the blond male looks up at you.

He stands up, a reciprocating smirk laying on his lips before he says, “You will,” before he takes his phone away from his ear, pressing the “hang up” button and raising his arm to close the drapes. You laugh with satisfaction while you exit his contact, turning on some music and tossing your phone on your bed before cleaning up your area and strumming your fingers like an imaginary guitar.

He opened his curtains expecting to see you sulking while doing your work, only to see you dance like an idiot while you blast your music, your pencils acting as a microphone as you perform your concert in front of your stuffed animals. He could hear the music from across the yard, him identifying it as your shared playlist that you two made a couple years back, the duration over fifteen hours as about three-hundred songs reside. An accidental chuckle escaped him as his eyes rested on your jumping figure for just a couple seconds. It was for entertainment. Yeah. That’s it.

~.~.~.~

Sticking your fabric marker on the construction paper, you write out your message to Kei.

“I love you”. It was a message that would tell him that he deserves the best and nothing less. It was something that you treasured and wanted to share that value with him. Something that told him that he belonged with you.

You hoped that one day you’d be able to give it to him, to tell him how you really feel, to show that you can do a better job than her, but you never got the chance. Carrying the folded slip in your pocket, ready to pull out, his phone rings. As you sit on the bench on the side of the road, you wonder how long it had been since you had seen him really smile. You had made him smile a lot before, even if he doesn’t smile a lot genuinely, there are some times where real happiness seeps through his facade. You like it when that happens, always have. You noticed how much his happiness had reduced over the course of these last few months, though.

He answers the phone very monotone, very uninterested. He sounded obligated while he spoke to his girlfriend, sighing sharply once he hung up.

“What was that about?”

“Just drama. Kind of sick of it at this point.” He sticks his phone in his pocket, looking over to your concerned expression. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he says while rolling his eyes, placing a soft hand on your head and letting it rest. His hand retracted quickly when the sound of his name rings through his ears, his head whipping towards his girlfriend's figure. He readjusts his glasses, sitting straight up and swinging the strap of his school bag over his shoulder before he gets up and sluggishly walks across the street, meeting up with the one he was set to have a date with later. He subtly waved to you prior to turning his head away and continuing his stroll with his date hanging on his arm. You ignore the glare served your way when you wave back to him, forgetting the multiple reasons of why you wanted him away from her so he can enjoy his date. Hopefully.

~.~.~.~

As you stand on the bleachers of Kei’s game, you watch him stride over the court and jump to block the ball, a playful smirk residing on his lips as he sends the ball to the other side. You clap for him, shouting praises his way in hopes he might hear you over everyone else. Especially her. The screaming and unnecessary noise making your ears bleed a bit. You didn’t mean to be irritated by it, but the pulse on your forehead and the grit of your teeth made it painfully obvious you didn’t really like her.

When the end of the game hit, you were overloaded with joy at Kei’s victory. You hurriedly make your way over to him before gripping him tightly in a hug, not caring about the sweat that drips off his body. You could feel his arms flex as he raised his arms to hesitantly reciprocate your actions until his arms completely dropped, his body stiff.

“What the hell?” He muttered under his breath as he firmly moved you aside to walk away. Following after him, you let your head peek out from the side of his back, watching it all occur in front of you. “What’s this?”

“What? Nothing, Kei,” she mewls, setting her hands on her boyfriend’s shirt as if she thought he was silly.

“Yeah, we were just, uh, talkin’.” The man before her fibs.

“Not according to what I just saw,” Kei accuses the two with a furrowed brow, fed up. You come out from behind him, glaring at his girlfriend in hate. This was it.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” the man dismisses, turning to keep the conversation with her going.

Stepping forward, you place an arm in front of Kei, stopping his movements as you eye his girlfriend. “Tell me you were not just flirting with this man and we’ll leave.”

“I wasn-”

“Don't,” you pause, taking a deep breath as you watch her take a step back, “don’t lie to me, or you will regret it,” you threaten, a sharp glint in your eye telling her that you are oh so serious about this. Behind you, Kei watches as you make his girlfriend stammer on her words, a subconscious smile leaking on his face.

She stomps away with anger, the man beside her moving away as well, scoffing.

~.~.~.~

He didn’t say much on the way home; you trailed behind him as he walked away in part anger and denial. You didn’t really know what to say. Should you go back and find the girl and beat some sense into her? Should you give some words of the wise to Kei? Would he even take it?

As you watch him slow down to match your pace, you grow confused. You were headed to your place, so why was he suddenly following? “Kei?” He hums in response, his head hanging low. “Would you like to stay at my place? I can make coffee and we can stay up shit-talking our least favorite people,” you giggle and softly bump into his side, a stifled chuckle escaping him.

“Whatever,” he mumbles with an obvious smile as he continues to walk with you. When you quietly shut the door and take your shoes off, you softly tread to the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine- the man that you took home followed, his arm planting on the marble counter as his eyes trail over your moving figure.

As you sit on the stool next to him beside your kitchen island, you converse about the drama he’s been scooped in, him rolling his eyes twice a minute and his irritation level going off the charts as he recalls the events. He hated it, you could tell. He made it pretty obvious he wasn’t happy about it, too.

“Are you still going to the dance with her tomorrow then?” You speak curiously, twirling your fingers around each other while staring blankly into the marble as you awkwardly sit there, awaiting an answer.

It takes him a second to respond, a long sigh and a deep thought coming into play in his mind once he looks over to your spaced expression. Does he really want to go? Did he want to go with her, or with someone else- you? “Probably.”

Oh. “Are you sure you wanna do that? After what happened today?”

“Why not. Nothing better to do,” he justifies, shrugging. Yeah, you probably should have seen that coming.

The note that resided in your pocket seemed to crumple a little bit when you came to terms with the fact that he may never notice you the way you wanted him to.

~.~.~.~

“Are you going?” Kei asks over his phone as he takes his suit out of his closet.

“Ah, no,” you breathe out as guilt pools in your stomach, your elbow balancing sitting on your desk while dozing off into something that is not mathematical equations.

“Oh,” is all he says before telling you he needed to get ready, giving his goodbye.

After the call ends, you see the light fading away from his room as he closes the drapes, giving you a sign to start working again. You wondered what would happen if you possibly showed up. You originally were going to go, but the date that canceled soon beforehand gave your mind a gentle squeeze, telling you that the dance wasn’t for you. Still, the tiniest urge told you to make an appearance. You groan in waver, giving in.

~.~.~.~

You felt good. You felt really good. Wearing your planned outfit to this dance, you make your way inside carefully, minding the crowd. You catch the eye of the one girl that you held a grudge against, watching her grope another man on the dance floor. You roll your eyes in disgust as you move your head around to find a tall blond in the crowd. He leaned against the wall across from you his arms crossed while his dilated pupils trace the light that bounces off the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him, his attention whipping to you as he raises his head.

“Hi,” he reluctantly answers you while standing straight up, a relieved smirk leading onto his lips. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I didn’t want to put my outfit to waste,” you smile, spreading your arms to show your attire.

“Yeah, well you came at perfect timing,” he points towards his girlfriend which you identified earlier, although he seemed like he didn’t care all that much.

Gripping the folded paper in your pocket, you slip it out with two fingers confidently. “I have something to tell you,” you admit, your eyes staying centered on his black suit.

“Go on,” he eggs, hands staying at the side of his body while he watches you fluster yourself. It takes you less than a second to shove the note in his stomach and turn around, your face turning hotter and hotter every moment. Your hands lay against your cheeks as your nerves rattle beneath your skin, your ears tingling when you hear a sweet chuckle glide against his lips. “You should have told me a long time ago, Y/n. I wouldn’t have to deal with,” his eyebrows turn up as his head tips towards the dancing figure just a couple of feet away from you guys, “...that.”

You turn around slowly, disbelief covering your face when you look at his smug expression. “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me this,” you gesture at the both of you with your pointer finger, “could have been something a long time ago?”

He sucks in through his teeth, taking a grip on your arm and pulling you with him as he walks through the crowd to the middle of the room. “Yep. Guess you missed out.”

“Says you,” you roll your eyes with attitude as you pick up your pace and place your hand in his.

He knew he belonged with you, he was just wondering when you would admit that.

aaa here it is! three days of work! sry i havent been posting lately ive been working <3 (reupload bc tumblrs a little bitch)

REQUESTS: OPEN

reblogs are VERY appreciated!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x you #tsukishima x you #haikyuu x y/n #tsukishima x y/n #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu angst #tsukishima angst #haikyuu comfort #tsukishima comfort #haikyuu drabbles #tsukishima drabbles #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima imagines #haikyuu oneshots #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima oneshots #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #tsukishima fanfiction #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima headcanons #momo<3

[myelocin]

木漏れ日 | tsukishima kei, oikawa tooru

Synopsis: Tsukishima Kei's always felt like he's meant to save a seat for someone, and while you felt the same, neither of you seem to want to break the silence and say that "perhaps this could be more," first. And the realization that sometimes, keeping love in the silence only does more harm than good.

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Tooru 

Genre: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Office!AU, Slowburn, Love Triangles (But not really), Happy Ending, (2nd person POV writing)

WordCount: 20,500+ 

A/N: This is a commissioned piece from @tsu-kiss​ ! Thanks for letting me write about you & your day 1 <3 heart heart | Playlist

commissions | ko-fi

There’s many things about Tsukishima Kei that you always found best described as odd.

To start, he’d wear a god awful blue button up, that was never quite ironed properly, under a coat that you always thought suited him. You heard he’d gotten that coat as a gift, from his mother, so you suppose that perhaps fashion just wasn’t his thing.

But you never minded him much.

He wore matching socks, and brushed his hair often enough to never spot any weird clumps no matter how much you’d squint towards the back of his head—of course just on the days when you find that you didn’t have much to do in your office other than hyper fixate on just about everything you can see.

(Unfortunately for him, he’s the cubicle right in front of you.)

(While fortunately, for you, he seemed to be interesting enough to fit the bill for most parts.)

He had a dinosaur charm hanging off of his car keys, purple. There’s a couple of rocks—fucking rocks—sat in the corner of his desk, right beside his mug with the weird illustration of a frog on it, and more pencils instead of pens inside it.

Pencils, you would remind yourself. At first, you thought that maybe he sketched on his downtime, but eventually, that self-imposed theory was quickly debunked. During a company outing, a few months ago, your team had went against his for a nice game of skribbl.io, and while your side emerged victorious, you couldn’t help but feel pity for the team that had to scratch their head at the scribbles the man could only come up with.

Tsukishima Kei was peculiar, but then again, at the core of it all, you suppose that he was interesting too.

Interesting enough to squint your eyes at when work was slow, and your boss wasn’t around. The papers in your desk would still be in piles, but the deadlines were too far for them to be scattered around your workspace.

You couldn’t see the view past him, considering his height, but you suppose having no other option than staring at a wall would be a worse situation, so with this, you settled.

Purple dinosaur, rocks, pencils in a mug with a weird frog on it coworker.

He was a sight, but he wasn’t unpleasant—so this would have to make do.

Your friend always told you that people often hung the most intimate parts of their stories around them like charms off a corner of a bag, so perhaps there was more to him than just the odd bits and pieces that never quite fit together.

Stories, you think.

You’ve always loved them.

-

All the while, in front of you, Kei thinks the same.

There’s a drawl that comes with the slower days during office hours. Time moves at an incredibly slow pace, to the point of feeling like he’s merely dragging his body to move through the motions with every minute that passes.

Recently, it’s been feeling like life just moves through the cycles, but because the drawl doesn’t exactly feel too bad, he supposes that he can’t mind it too much.

He can stare at the clock from seven until one, and type the same sentence on a file again and again when his superior walks past his desk. The dinosaur charm on his set of keys was cute, along with the array of rocks on the table.

-

And while things for each of you worked like that, when moments were molded together, it worked like this.

(A little awkwardly, if anything.)

Relationships between coworkers had never been much of a taboo thing, but it was the kind of topic you tend to avoid. Schedules for the both of you worked around a clock, and compromise was a word you didn’t even bother trying to skirt around.

He was Tsukishima Kei, as the man who stapled his papers a little too loudly and had more pencils than pens in his cup, while for him, you were just Nina.

The girl who sat behind him who dressed like the tones of earth and smelled like caramel coffee every 9am.

You know each other by name, and maybe by coffee order, but there were still more than just a couple questions of “who are you, exactly?” that still were left unanswered. Though then again, you were never really certain if those kinds of questions were the ones that even needed answers in the first place.

You could ask yourself what you should wear today, and you’ll shuffle through your closet before eventually deciding on that beige cardigan instead of that yellow turtleneck. Before the barista would ask you what you wanted to order, you’d already be in line, asking yourself the same question and answering with your usual order ready to be spoken out loud.

There were questions where the answers for them were necessary while some, could be satiated with just the fact that they were even asked in the first place.

Why did you pick a dinosaur for your keychain instead of something more…age appropriate?

Why pencils over pen?

Why do you scrunch your nose right before you sneeze?

Why that blue striped undershirt when you look more fashionable than just that?

You don’t know, but it’s not like you’re curious enough to care. Looking at him, or rather, squinting through the frames of your glasses, it dawns on you that Tsukishima Kei will just be one of those sentences with a question mark, because even if the tone which you read it as would sound as a question, there was never a need for an extension.

An answer.

To wonder freely, but never dwell in curiosity. Fleeting.

He’s just a fleeting thought; just the coworker who just happened to occupy the desk in front of you and was interesting enough to look at from 8-6.

And while those were always your thoughts, he thought the same too.

Truth be told there was a lot about the both of you that mirrored each other. While he didn’t have to jump off his car when he’d make his way out, he always was the type to have sporadic bouts of road rage. He’d sigh when your boss came over your area of the office, and tap away on his keyboard as if he was trying to finish a report, even though he’d already had all of his files ready to be sent, finished and stacked in a folder two hours ago.

Much like you, he had a bit of a sweet tooth and was never really the type to turn down a slice of cake if he was offered a piece.

-

Questions, Kei often thought. There had always been an abundance of questions in his life.

Though, admittedly, a majority of them nowadays are just admittedly centered on you.

What’s your name? being the first, and he remembers that it was spoken out loud almost two springs ago. How are you? as the stereotypical question number two; though admittedly, it was only asked under the clauses of what social etiquette dictates for people who are at least acquaintances.

When he thinks about it, you are an acquaintance. You’re Nina; the girl who smells like caramel anything coffee every 8:30 am, and the desk behind his with the keyboard with the keys that never clicked too loudly.

Who are you? as the question he thinks, often, when his thoughts drift.

And most of the time he can answer it. Objectively speaking, he can just look at things from a wider perspective and say that you’re you, all the while he’s always just been him.

But truly, it’s undeniable that when some days when nine am would hit and he’d turn to ask for a stapler from either you or the desk beside yours, there would just be something about your little corner of the room that would just make him think.

All the words in every language he knows, only the word beautiful remains. It’s an observation, and he can admit that much. A passing thought, perhaps, thought of in the midst of what is this or that, but it’s one of those thoughts where he just won’t bother to deny it nor even begin of trying to write it off with a different explanation.

Nine am was yours, and as was the morning light.

A murmured question, the smell of coffee, and a thank you that blends with the harmony of morning. A soft click, the shuffle of the chair, and the sound of your soft keys tap, tap, tapping away from behind him.

Who are you? he asks; a question he never bothered to try to find the forever answer to.

(Because nothing is a constant, Tadashi used to say.)

(Because everything flows, he remembers some more.)

But Kei keeps it as a passing thought none the less. He’s always supposed that questions like these are reserved for the hours within the day where the clock would tick slow, and time would feel like a routine like drawl.

Blank thoughts and typing out the same sentence again and again to seem busy did probably lead to questions about the unprecedented and the constant in his head.

Whereas the constant was you; his nine am touch of caramel and soft tapping noises. While the unprecedented was this:

The word beautiful, as the only thought that explains a majority of what he sees. Turning around to give back the stapler he really should stop borrowing, and catching a glimpse of your profile under the sort of light that he can only really see during spring mornings.

It’s like finally realizing that this is where the good in good morning comes from.

Who are you? he thinks again, and it’s at every 9:07 where he’d think to himself that perhaps he wants to know you more than just your name.

The four letters that spell out Nina suddenly seem insufficient, and he wants to ask why it’s caramel you order instead of mocha. When he’s in the breakroom and looking in the fridge to grab the Tupperware of fruit he keeps as a snack throughout the day, even though it’d only been a fleeting observation to him then, it’s now where he wants to ask why it’s crème brulee instead of the strawberry shortcake he always hears you comment about.

Who are you? as the translation to I want to get to know you, but he’s always quick to remind himself that these are just the kinds of questions best left unanswered. It wasn’t the fact that there was a lot at stake, because truth be told—nothing much would change at all should they be answered, but at the same time, he liked the drawl the routine brought.

Curiosities were best kept as curiosities, and some questions would remain read out loud as questions, but ultimately just filed as passing thoughts at the end of the day.

Eight AM to six, Tsukishima Kei would move through his routine by willing his body through the motions, even if his thoughts did admittedly drift off to you. Just curiosity, he’d reason.

When he’s driving to work before eight and he sees you hop off your car and adjust your bag, he wants to ask if traffic was bad on the drive here. (Just curiosity.)

When the time of the morning rolls around and he smells your signature caramel and hears you murmur a quiet good morning to the entire office, he wonders what it would sound like if you just said good morning to him. (Just curiosity.)

When he’s catching peeks at you from the corner of his eye just to see your profile turned to the side, and facing up to feel the filtered sunshine through the window, he wants to know if you’re the type who prefers spring over the winter, and why. (Just curiosity.)

So even with that, Tsukishima Kei supposes it’s just because of curiosity that leads him to approach you when he sees you on a Sunday, sat by the window in Starbucks, with a drink that doesn’t look like caramel in your hand, right as he asks—

“Is this seat taken?”

-

It’s not as if you mean to say that it feels like fate is telling you that you’re still waiting for something, but some days has you feeling like you’re meant to wait for someone.

Moments like this—like now.

You’re staring out the window of the nearest café by your place, with nothing really written for the agenda of your day. Times like these are where you usually tell yourself that it’s okay, and that day offs existed for a reason—but the mind always did have a way with never staying still.

And while for some, thoughts just rolled by—yours on the other hand, always had a habit of running.

You’re waiting for something, it says, but as soon as you take a peek at what’s beneath the underneath, you know that something is just a loose replacement for the word, “someone.”

But as of now, someone is just a figment in your head.

Someone is the reassurance that there’s something to be met after this, or in the midst of this. This, as your twenties—as your maze.

More than ever, you know that this is the part of your life where you’ll carry the burden of trials rather than wear the crowns of victory, but you suppose that there’s a couple hidden gems you can only find throughout the journey. Or at least, that’s what you have to remind yourself. Then again, epiphanies like this didn’t exactly happen like they were just thoughts that would come easy, without much thought. Sometimes, you think, the most profound epiphanies were uncovered within moments wherein they would just come to you.

The blank period between just beginning to build your foundation and laying out the perimeters for the solid home above that was this exact point of your life. Weekends and day offs where you could try to catch your breath right before you dived back in the trenches again.

(You hate Mondays.)

(But not as much as you hated Sundays.)

Though the silver lining found within the two was always your coffee. Your kick of caramel within that bitter shot of espresso. Your weekends between life was comparable to the silver lining most people usually talk about. A pit stop, and a taste of sugar. Caramel within espresso, where the difference between something being underneath and blended with was made clear.

You suppose that life was never really layered in the end.

As much as people try to separate the specifics within it, at the end of the day it all would just blend together.

Like trying to pick apart salt and pepper, when you sit by your 9am light beside the window on your moments of rest during Sundays off—you admit to yourself that you can’t really tell apart the intricacies of life.

(Timelines, you mean.)

Sometimes you remember that the reality of the matter is that you’re twenty three years old and a little more lost in the world, when at sixteen you thought that by now you’d be found—or at least three steps away. The poems in the letters that bring you comfort tell you, in the timeless words meant to ground the lost in the moment, that what even is the definition of being found?

There was no universal timeline that everyone had to follow, and even if that was true, what you feel regarding the matter still felt like it was beyond your control. (Beyond your reasoning.)

Nine AMs and their light was a comfort. They come to you, metaphors delivered in silent whispers and ghost like touches: on your shoulders, your cheeks, and your eyelids, and for that short while they’re there you feel okay. (Safe.)

Mornings bring about the kind of comfort that feels more everlasting than even the idea of a ring on your finger. The sunbeams tell you they’re there—still there—because they’re what’s timeless. Diamonds on your ring, and a finite love to call yours be damned.

(The light’s what’s stayed, and what will stay.)

—Or at least that’s how you feel for a sliver of the time.

Because truth be told, you feel like you’re still supposed to be waiting for something.

Perhaps it’s a sort of love, or perhaps it’s the love.

(You don’t know, because for now love doesn’t have a face.) Love resonates to an unfulfilled yearning you have within; the kind that can momentarily be satiated by your nine ams and kicks of caramel every weekday morning and iced shaken passion lemon tea every Sundays as a treat for yourself.

For now, saving the seat in front of you and taking up a table meant to seat two by the window during your weekends will have to make do.

Asking yourself questions throughout the day that most of the time don’t really need answers will make do.

Blinking at the nine am light while sipping your daily dose of sweet is enough to keep the thoughts that where you are won’t be enough after this, away.

And because there’s a lot of for nows, that you decide to cling on to for the sake of keeping what’s here feeling like it’s enough, you move through your day with the idea that even if the seat in front of you will always be saved for the eventual kind of love you know will manifest one day—having company can’t be so bad. (To at least satiate your for now.)

Like Tsukishima Kei, and his god awful stripped blue button up you just know he can do better than. His presence during weekdays from eight to six was expected, and blended well with the routine unconsciously established during your work hours.

It wasn’t like you meant to move closer towards him, but it was an undeniable fact that a person will somehow gravitate towards those that mirror them in a sense.

Maybe it’s the pencils on his desk, or the purple dinosaur you admit is cute hanging off his keys.

He isn’t love, because he’s just a name, and a presence that’s become a sort of permanent fixture in the routine you know is only a temporary flow. But what he is is the curious head that towers above Sunday’s afternoon crowd that squints at all the occupied tables in the room.

He’s the light brown sweater, golden hair, amber eyes, and purple dinosaur keychain that hangs right beside his set of keys looped on his right hand. But most importantly—and most recently, he’s the question, “is this seat taken?” when his eyes widen at the sight of you after a quick scan of the crowd in the room.

And he’s the face, that breaks out into a smile, come sunshine, as you think of all that is golden and illuminated, that says “Thank you,” right after you say your yes.

(It dawns on you just then how good it felt to even say no.)

-

If wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the unspoken connection brewing between you and the constantly brooding blonde.

Then again, the view from the bubble was different than the view from a different angle. While the whole office, and frankly any stranger who could differentiate the color blue from red saw the both of you as a pair, you both still looked at each other as just the temporary company who warmed the seat you’re still saving for someone.

“So what’s the deal,” Tadashi says, rounding the corner and dropping a pile of unsorted files on Kei’s desk. “—With you and,” he continues, then pauses, flicking his eyes to the side to ensure that your desk was empty before continuing with, “you know.”

Kei blanks, momentarily forgetting how the pile seemed to make a slight thud that already pokes at the incoming migraine of today’s workload manifesting behind his head. “I what?”

Tadashi smirks, an expression that Kei still can’t seem to wrap his head around. “Nina.”

“Nina,” Kei deadpans. “Our coworker Nina.”

A few beats of silence pass, and Tadashi chuckles at the sight of his point completely flying right over his friend’s area of awareness and presence. “Lena saw you at Starbucks last Sunday with her.”

Grabbing the first chunk of the pile, he begins to sort, his attention already shifted. “It’s social etiquette to talk to people you’re acquainted with.”

“Acquainted,” Tadashi parrots, laughing. “So last week and the week before that was just because you’re acquainted.”

Kei sighs, looking up and dropping the three pieces of paper previously clasped in between his pointer finger and thumb, its contents already long forgotten at this point.

“Just a coincidence,” he reasons, knowing that his words will more so fall on ears that aren’t exactly keen on accepting the rather objective truth.

Tadashi’s always been the type to try to read in between the lines, but unfortunately for him, Kei thinks, there wasn’t much of a metaphor in this situation. He goes to the café every Sunday because his brother would usually crash by his place in the weekends, and Kei found that even if he did love him, he still wanted a slice of his day off dedicated to himself.

He never mentions that to Tadashi though, already knowing that the man would just counter back just as quick, with the question of why is he spending time with you then? Asking you if the seat is taken despite the empty tables that had always been abundant ever since after the first meeting.

“Okay,” Tadashi shrugs, hands raised up and smirk in place—a weird look on him, Kei comments to himself inwardly again—as he turns back around to make his way back to his department.

“Still rooting for you though,” he calls out, turning around to launch a last ditch comment towards the steadily irritated man who can only do nothing but stare at him blankly in response.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

-

“What do you think about Tadashi?” he asks you, four weekends later when you’re sat in the same table, at that same coffee shop again.

Writing his question off as a passing comment, you shrug. “From accounting?”

Kei nods. “From accounting.”

You give his question a couple moments to let it soak in, before you eventually just shrug, again, not really definitive with the answer you come to a conclusion to. “I don’t know him that well. What’s this about?”

“Nothing, really,” he answers. “I just thought you both would be good together.”

“Like for a project?” you ask, as you absent mindedly continue to scroll through the contents on your phone. There was a sale at Muji, the ad on Instagram reads, so you make a mental note to maybe stop by on the way home after you finish your grocery run.

“Like together,” he responds, and it had you been looking at him instead of the screen on your phone, you would have seen the sly way he sips his coffee and watches for your expression from the corner of his eye.

And because you’re a lot more aware than you give yourself credit for, even though you don’t see it, you feel him basically boring his eyes onto your profile. You realize you lack an opinion regarding what to think of the situation, so you let him stare.

Truth be told, you don’t know what his staring could exactly pertain to, so in response, to try to satiate both the curiosity in your head along with his question, you shrug, answering, “I don’t think about it. Why?”

He’s quick to turn to the side, to his left facing the window where the child across the street suddenly looked more entertaining than trying to wrack his thoughts for more words to fill in the conversation.

“Cute,” he hears you hum, right before he turns his head to catch a glance of you wearing the smile he tells himself doesn’t catch him off guard every time, peek through the rim of your cup.

There’s a lot about the details founded within tidbits of moments he thinks is worth the most. As if trying to immortalize the bits and pieces that don’t matter universally, he knows when coming across the specific kind of people he’d probably get chided for it.

Kei remembers his mother scrunching her nose at the way he’d eat the bready part of the cupcake right after scraping off the icing, and how he’d give the skin on his fried chicken to his older brother when kids his age usually liked the crispy parts the most.

It’s a funny thing, he thinks—about just how false the universal standards really are.

What “matters” really is relative in the end, because the joy you come across to is what remains the same. Like yesterday, finishing his work early was joy. Finding that his superior had skipped a day of work to attend to family matters hence the lighter workload on his desk—that too was joy.

And strangely enough, spending another of his Sundays yet again sat in the café he tells himself he really should stop coming to for the fourth time in a row, sat across you, is joy.

(Joy, like the way your face lights up at the sight of the boy holding his mother’s hand as he crosses the street.)

(Joy, like the emotion that blooms on your face, radiance comparable to your nine am shower of sun.)

(Joy, like the word best used to tie to what’s swirling with him in the now,  because even if a lot of things were hanging and left as questions to dangle in the space between what can be answered and what could just remain as what ifs—this little moment makes something in him bloom.)

“Yeah,” you hear, and you will yourself to not think about the way his voice seems to deliver more than just a passing comment. “Cute.”

-

Like drifting away from the current, this is the part where you break from the waves and try to make sense of all the ocean that’s in front of you. The water’s clear, and the waves aren’t knocking your air out of your lungs, but the shore’s still far, you think.

There’s the presence of birds circling you from above, so you know land isn’t too far. There’s a safety net, that’s there, but you’re still in the water. There’s the feel of sand beneath your feet, along with water against the palms of your hand. You’re not swimming, but you haven’t waded too far in to be drowning either.

Just testing the waters deep enough for you to know what the waves feel like—just to get a taste of the thrill must be like—but never too much to the point of being overwhelmed.

A dance between two strangers, or a conversation shared between two souls too familiar to just be acquaintances. It doesn’t take long for Kei to settle into the rhythm you’d composed for yourself.

Work still moves through the schedule from eight to six, and your boss is still the cause for most of your headaches with every additional file set on your desk every Monday. Nine AMs was still your favorite hour of the day, along with the kind of sun it brought and offered you, day in and day out. Tsukishima Kei was still the boy with the god awful striped blue dress shirt that sat in front of you every day.

But then again, there were changes, but most of which were welcome, none the less.

When he turns to ask for a stapler, he’d lean by your desk and strike up a conversation instead of promptly end it with a solid thank you. Breakroom conversations during lunch were often shared together; in the beginning just coincidences, but eventually, slowly, planned. Some mornings you’d find a cup of coffee on your desk when you’d be running late, and for the first few times, you’d spend a hefty twenty minutes or so pondering about it, before eventually remembering that this was the exact coffee order that you told Kei you wanted to try just the day before.

A friendly hello, turning into a knowing glance, and the thank you said out of courtesy turning into light conversation exchanged in hushed voices.

There was a story now, behind the purple dinosaur, because when he’d seen you look at it a little too long, that same afternoon you found an identical one on your desk, beside your pastel highlighters you let him borrow with no problem, when you had always known yourself to be quite specific about it.

Conversations in the break room that used to hold just passing thoughts, and a couple nods to the head just to acknowledge the other, now turned into actual conversations. It wasn’t the comment that ended with a period, anymore, because every day there would always be somewhere where they had left off of.

Kei smiles, often, because with the light, comes you.

He can’t call you his, because there would always be a whole lot more to it than just calling you something that you clearly aren’t,

“—yet,” as Tadashi would often tease him with.

But he finds it undeniable to say that what you are is something.

Like having conversation plus the company.

The seat he tells himself he’s saving for someone, or something, occupied with a stranger. And even if neither of you can exactly call the other yours, the both of you could always call the little purple dinosaur and the box of nescafe caramel instant coffee—

“—Ours,” he hears you say.

He looks up, from his mug and his stack of papers that all need his signature on his desk. You’re in a similar position as him, with your own mug in hand and stack of papers in front of you. He’s watching you smile, first at what he presumes to be your first sip of coffee, then at the recruit who peeked in the break room to ask you a question.

Then it’s your next smile, for him, and he’s struck in between a thought and action: a little breathless if he were being honest with himself—but because for now you’re just the conversation that comes with company and nothing more, he keeps the thought as just a thought.

It doesn’t pass, but it stays, and he knows this is the kind that’s most likely going to linger a little longer than the rest.

“Ours,” he hears you say, again.

You’re motioning to the stack of caramel sachets in a box that he had bought for the both of you to share, nodding your head. “Oh,” you say. “It’s ours,” you continue, motioning towards him.

“Yeah,” he parrots, not so much as being high in love, but struck and rooted was a good word to describe the situation.

To describe what he means for you.

Ours, he echoes. It’s a good word.

Yours or his was too daring of a word to dub for any of you, but ours fit the boundary he found the both of you to be situated within.

He could call the purple dinosaur and the story with it ours, and the taste of caramel just the same.

Ours, he thinks.

It makes sense.

-

“It’s just,” Tadashi explains. “Nina makes a lot of sense.”

Kei nods, agreeing. “She’s a smart girl.”

“No she makes sense for you,” he counters, leaning half his body across the desk. Tadashi eyes the keychain, and at the stack of caramel sachets by his mug, giving Kei a smug look afterwards.

“For you, Tsukki,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. “I mean that she makes a lot of sense for you.”

As always, Kei keeps his eyes on his screen, as he taps away, continuing his work and keeping his focus trained towards it instead of humoring Tadashi. He knows he means well, as always, because as observant as his friend is, he always means well with his intentions.

Knowing that his friend isn’t the type to give in, Kei relents. “Why do you say that?”

Tadashi beams, leaning forward even further, squinting his eyes up at his friend who looks at him with bored eyes. They’re golden, he thinks. Kei had always had a certain hue of gold he could never match to what’s around, but it’s under the glow of the kind of gold nine AM gives where the puzzle piece finally clicks.

“I say it because it’s obvious,” Kei hears Tadashi answer.

It’s simple, really.

Not just because of a keychain and a cup of coffee, but because of the puzzle pieces he didn’t know would even fit together are now here, suddenly being nudged into place.

Kei pauses; leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, just as he looks at Tadashi.

His friend wears the smile he already knows the meaning behind, so he sighs, the thoughts he knows he should think through being pushed away by the third party wall called objectivity and false rationality.

“She’s just a friend,” Kei reasons, blunt. Underneath his thoughts, he knows it’s not much of a reasoning, but more like an on-the-surface answer, but he tries to push it as his truth anyway.

Tries.

There’s a bandage on his hand from yesterday, because of a burn.

“I’m nice to you, because I’m your friend,” he hears your voice from yesterday echo in his head. It baffles him still, to think that you’d have a supply of unopened bandages and burn ointment in your drawer, when he knows you’ve never been the clumsy type.

Kei looks past Tadashi, to the empty space of your desk, and tries to tell himself that it’s just a desk. He tells himself that your seat is just a seat, and the pillow there is just a pillow.

He pushes away the memory that’s on the edge of resurfacing: of you, three days ago, saying that the leather on your chair is a little too uncomfortable for you to comfortably sit on. All the while it was he, in return, taking it upon himself to deny the fact that on the way home that afternoon, his reason for taking a U-turn three streets away from home to drive to IKEA was because he needed a new trashcan.

And the pillow, with the serenity blue fabric was just conveniently right by the trash bin section of the store.

It’s because he’s doing a favor for a friend, he told himself.

Sometimes you take a U-turn, even if you see the roof of your apartment building, to do a favor for a friend.

You were a friend who happened to just share a little more stories with him than the rest, and that was okay.

Friends can have conversations in between work and share a few stories together. And favors, Kei reasons. Friends do favors.

You rubbed ointment on his hand and bandaged it from a burn, because you’re doing him a favor. So in return, he bought you a pillow to sit on, because he just so happened to remember your passing comment regarding the fact that leather is uncomfortable for you.

There’s a spare trash bin in his room that doesn’t even get filled up.

Really, he prefers mocha over caramel, but caramel isn’t so bad.

The glare from the sun bothers him a bit, but he tells himself that perhaps a little sun is nice only when it’s 9AM.

Tadashi smiles.

“Tsukki,” he recites, just stating what he sees. “She’s the one you’ve been saving your seat for.”

-

And you think the same.

Conversation that ends with a comma means that there’s more to come. Tsukishima Kei turned into the “hello” that would branch off to ”how are you?” in the hallways, and “coffee again? This Sunday?” if you caught the same elevator as him when you were leaving work for the day.

Caramel in your coffee, with the perfect kind of sweetness you now know that he only sometimes likes.

Never to be one for sweets, but the slices of strawberry shortcake from that one bakery down two blocks away from his building was always something he couldn’t say no to. You know that now, you realize. You’ve known it for a while, because three weeks ago he had brought two slices to work after you told him you always were the kind of person with a sweet tooth.

You know why he has more pencils than pens, and laugh because you think it’s fitting. He’s always liked to doodle in the corner of his files, so for as long as he drew with a fairly light hand, he could always go back in and erase things if need be.

He told you that, over coffee one weekend, again. With a telltale shade of pink dusted across his cheeks and a slight pout to the lips, you found that Tsukishima Kei did look pretty.

At least you think.

Often, you’d overhear the ladies in the breakroom exclaim that he looked a little more scary than necessary, but you think it’s because they haven’t seen him laugh. Contrary to their belief, Kei often wore more than one expression, but only when it counted the most.

He laughed; expression lit when he’d scroll on his phone and watch a video that satiated his kind of humor that you’ve now also grown familiar to, and you’d think to yourself that him looking bright is fitting. When he’d come across a pack of the cottage cheese one of your coworkers always left open in the refrigerator, he’d crinkle his nose and pout, instead of look angry.

Kindness is a good look on him.

“I really enjoy your company,” you remember him say, just last Sunday when you were at that coffee shop right by the window again.

He smiled at you, in the way that delivers his truth far better than words ever could.

You don’t think there was ever a reason to doubt him. He was blunt, when needed be. He reached for a tissue when you had a bit of whipped cream on your lips, and told you that your files could be organized better when you were passing off folders for him to sign and pass forward.

Errors concluded through an objective point of view, where seldom did he try to peer at what was asked to be critiqued with a biased eye.

You conclude that Kei’s just the type to mean well, so you suppose there could be no harm in wading in a little deeper than you usually would.

The universe gave, so you took.

(And clutched on a little too tight.)

Clutching onto it, like your hand on the new tube of ointment you purposely drove to the pharmacy for before picking up your coffee and his as you made your way to work. You held on tight to the steering wheel, smiling at the thought of sharing your nine AMs with someone again, even if you told yourself you’re saving that spot—like he saves his seat—for the someone, or something that’s inevitable to come.

Perhaps love could look like a purple dinosaur charm and taste like caramel. Perhaps you’ll warm up to the sight of a blue striped long sleeve and think that it’s fitting with beige.

Serenity blue had always been a pretty color, you think.

Pretty.

Pretty like Kei—a thought you tried to pass off as just a fleeting kind of epiphany when you were drumming your fingers against the steering wheel of your car while stopped at a red light. Pretty like Kei—as the thought that stayed, and bloomed into a truth that comes wrapped with his name.

Pretty, like his thank you, when he murmured his gratitude to you like a secret. His face just a few inches above yours, as he looked down, watching you rub ointment on the burn on his hand and bandage it with the daisy patterned stickers, patient.

Patience was pretty.

It’s not like he’s love, because that’s a word that needs more justification than just a couple conversations and some one-sided epiphanies conjured up in a haste.

You weren’t in a rush, personally, at least you try to tell yourself that. You drove slowly around the block when the sunset was pretty, and took your time in picking out that tumbler you bought at starbucks. You could wait for a lot of things, because time was the constant where despite the ticking, still felt limitless.

So it’s a mystery to you, that you’re rushing right here, right now, at nine in the morning when the windows by the hallway you had to walk through to get here often showed you the best view. A tube  of ointment in hand and the hope to have your first sip of coffee taste like nescafe’s caramel instead of the blend you like from Gigi Coffee down the block from where you live.

Pretty like nine AM streams of gold, and pretty like Tsukishima Kei and the overgrown bangs that suit him quite well.

So when you’re in the elevator and staring at the reflection of you in the mirror to your left, you don’t exactly have it in you to admit that it is a little out of character for you to reach up and fix your hair more than just a couple of times.

The left seems a little too off, while the right was too unnatural. You part your hair in the middle, like usual, and brush the little fringe you have to make it look pretty, and smile.

You remember that time, just one Friday ago when Kei was riding this same elevator with you to the parking lot in the basement, as he looked at you for a briefly, before glancing up

He could be it, until he ends his story with just the role of an almost.

So it’s almost, you repeat in your head. A new tube of ointment clutched in your hand and the three more steps until you round the hall and make it to your desk. Almost there, as the thought that excites you more than it terrifies you this time.

Here, the sun is yours, as is the light. When nine AM ticks on the clock, the sunbeams falling everyday almost as if all it’s done is defy every call the clouds the rainy season brings about.

Perhaps that seat that’s been both empty and filled is almost actually occupied. Almost like one more step, that you take without hesitation as you tuck one strand of your hair back and brace yourself for light.

For the wounds on his hand you wish to mend and for the word “almost,” you think would be rewarded with a happy ending, you allow your heart to speak its truth and blend with the moment, unfiltered, as you smile.

You think of rehearsing a small hi, but decide against it at the very last second, because you want to say his name instead.

Kei, the name he’d insisted you call him with red on his cheeks while his gaze was set to the side. His Strawberries and cream on his glass instead of the espresso people would think is his style, and you smile, because it’s nice to know him as more than just Tsukishima Kei at the office.

Like knowing how his face looks when he scrunches up at the sting from the ointment, you know better now to get the one that he said doesn’t sting as much. You know he’ll appreciate the plain bandaids you have in your bag, instead of the daisy covered ones he had to make do from the stack you had laying on your drawer.

You ready yourself for the friendly hey, instead of the practiced hi, with the smooth good morning everyone that’s just a coworker in this room gets instead of the smile you think you’re set to give to him today.

You look forward to the taste of instant caramel, plus the sight of the sun.

One step, then you turn. You’re not blinded, but the scene in front of you is illuminated. Tsukishima Kei, his back against the chair, bandaged arm on the desk, and an expression of what looks like apathy scribbled across his face.

You pause, not so much as if you’re a deer caught in the headlights, but more like something within roots you to watch.

A stage is set, and the story looks to be continuing, instead of just beginning.

Tadashi smiles, patient. There’s a story behind the peace he wears, and you catch yourself thinking that you wish you knew the context behind it. In a way, you feel as if you do, but your thoughts blank when you try to dig for more connections, so you watch.

“Tsukki,” you hear him recite, just stating what he sees. “She’s the one you’ve been saving your seat for.”

“Nina,” Kei deadpans.

Nina, your thoughts echo. That’s my name.

You listen.

“I barely know her.”

Tadashi sighs, in dramatics. “The point is to get to know her.”

In response, Kei sighs too. “That’s already a lot of unnecessary work,” he mumbles, offhandedly.

You stay still, starting to think that maybe you don’t want to listen.

“C’mon Tsukki,” Tadashi pushes. “You meet up every weekend and the whole pantry in the breakroom has pretty much become you and her’s snack station.”

You watch, still rooted as Kei heaves a sigh in response, like the context of the conversation is the kind of weight that’s thought more like a nuisance instead of just a little heavy. “She’s convenient,” you hear.

Convenient, the word echoes.

Convenient, as the word that you let ring.

-

It’s funny how you almost slipped and clicked your shoes against the tile too loudly as to alert them that you’ve been there.

Just like how you almost turned around, when you made it to your seat a little later that morning, and he was already tapping on the edge of your desk, undoubtedly asking for the stapler.

There was a sense of hesitation in his voice, that didn’t fly past you. On the other hand, you didn’t turn around, like you usually would do, to at least strike up conversation. It was more convenient, like this you think. You’d place the stapler and your mug with the highlighters in the end that’s closest to him, and you’d turn your monitor a little to the side, so that you can avoid the glare from the window that always bothered you.

Right, you think. The glare.

Typing without that damned glare made work a lot more convenient. Humming out a quick response instead of trying to piece together what to say worked the same, and staying in your desk and ordering in your coffee instead of going to the break room to get your usual cup of caramel was also like that.

“Just for convenience,” you say as your reason to Kei, when he asks you if you wanted to get lunch with him that day, and you told him no, because you wanted to stay in the office instead.

It’s convenient too, when you look away and continue to type, willing yourself to focus on the text in front of you instead of his retreating figure your peripherals still catch a glimpse of.

 -

Just like how the Sunday after that, the reason why you chose to still sit in that same table by the window is because it’s convenient. Two chairs with only one occupied, you cross one leg over the other under the table.

There’s a file open on your laptop, with the material you need to go over still stuck on the first page even if you’ve already been sat in the same spot for 3 hours now. You wore a cardigan over your top on the drive here, and took it off to hang it over the chair across yours because it’s more convenient to just do that than drape it over your bag on the floor.

When Tsukishima Kei walks in, you ignore the fact that this seems like it’s just clockwork.

You click your tongue, a gesture more towards yourself than towards him, as you try to remember at least the last three things that’s ben staring at you on your file today.

Blank.

He spots you, so you clear your throat, reach forward to take another sip—too sweet—and squint at your screen.

The words are in complete jargon, as are the thoughts in your head. You tell yourself that the thoughts that come are just meant to be fleeting little nothings, but the truth is that they aren’t.

Convenience, it echoes, and you come to realize that you aren’t exactly in the place to be angry. Company was because of convenience, and it did start like that.

You suppose that it was just on you that you started considering Tsukishima Kei as the conscious choice you eventually chose over the usual—every day.

There’s a lot to be defined and sorted through when you think of the word almost.

Objectively speaking, almost wasn’t that much of a heartbreaking word to ponder about. You almost made it past the light, but orange tells you to slow down. You almost sent in your order before the restaurant closed, but ended up not doing it anyway.

To you, almost was a reminder that if something didn’t happen, there was just a greater someone above and perhaps beyond, setting down the foundations to say that this would only end up as a bad scenario.

Just like how you almost looked at him.

“Nina,” he smiles.

“Tsukishima-san,” you respond, keeping your poise.

Quite audibly, he shuffles. You clear your throat again, trying your hand at dissipating the awkwardness that sort of settles. “Is this seat taken?” he asks.

With hands that just barely pause above the keys, the best you offer him is a friendly smile.

“Ah,” you respond, then blink. When you look up and over towards him, he’s holding his bag in one hand with a cup of coffee in the other. There’s a lot of almosts that run through your head.

To be fair, you could say yes. But that was being fair to the rationality of the situation and not exactly to yourself. You hate the word convenience, because that meant that it was just another one of those for nows.

(You hate how temporary presence can be. More so within instances where the world makes you feel as if you’re the temporary.)

Like the seat you’ve occupied across him this whole time, you think to yourself that perhaps you were just the conversation that was convenient enough for him to sit with until what was to come arrived.

So you stare.

The absence of caramel is a little new, but it hasn’t settled enough for you to decide if whether you’re welcoming it or not.

Kei shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and waits.

He waits.

Waiting.

It’s annoying, you think.

You tell yourself that waiting shouldn’t always make you feel like you’re on the edge of something that won’t play out well, but in the moment, there’s not a lot of comfort you can cling towards.

So you grasp at what you have. Right now, you hold your cup of coffee and own company. The reminder that what you must be waiting for probably wasn’t him—the almost, you call it—present in your head, repeating like a mantra. The kind of mantra that’s meant to deliver you to safety, you hope.

He motions towards the seat again, when you don’t answer, so you straighten your back, bearing your thoughts together to try to atleast string some words as a response.

To be fair, you do ponder about what to say. You realize that not a lot can be weighed because if Kei had already made his intentions clear yesterday, you suppose you can give yourself your own clarity too. Transparency meant you were granted your own peace of mind, and you’ve always hated how foggy the word almost looked.

You don’t think about the two more sachets of caramel in the breakroom—almost finished.

You stare past him, focusing on the menu you can’t even read from this distance behind him, and try not to sigh.

He stares, and you hate how you know what kind of coffee he bought.

You despise how you know the exact files he’s probably carrying with him in his bag right now because you know him that well at this point. Too well, the voice in the back of your head nags.

But you hate how fleeting the word “convenience” feels. You’ve always thought to yourself that even if the seat in front of you had always been empty, the fact that you were seated in yours was the constant you’d forever abide by.

“Seat’s taken,” you hear yourself say, before you almost caught yourself saying no, it’s free.

It’s yours to take, you would have told him, because you felt like you still had enough in you to give him a couple more pieces you thought you wouldn’t need.

But the truth is, you realize, is that at the end of the day, you’d need every piece of yourself to be whole. Whether that seat across yours would be occupied right now, tomorrow—or even ten years into the future, it felt wrong to just have another almost keep it warm.

“Sorry,” you repeat, hoping to deliver your truth to him. “It’s taken. Just waiting for someone.”

“Ah,” he nods, though he doesn’t turn away. You feel him stare right through you, and you feel naked. Perhaps there’s a part of you that craves for him to know your actual truth and confront it, but the part that was all rationality said that that wouldn’t be a convenient thing to do, so you relent, and let go.

“Someone,” he echoes. “You’re saving that seat for someone.”

You nod, absent. “Yeah,” he hears you say, and he wishes you’d give him a little more than just the tendrils of a lie lying on the surface. “Someone.”

-

Just like how you almost missed a stop and rescheduled that trip to your friend’s flower shop next week again.

You almost missed him.

(But you didn’t.)

So you think that maybe this was the other road you’ve been meaning to take. It’s not a seat, but it’s a space. In between the bookshelves and the counter, there’s a space for you to fit in so you could reach past the bloom of hydrangeas to call your friend’s attention.

Except it’s another that catches yours first.

With your feet planted on the ground, you remind yourself that there’s no chair beside you to hang your jacket over as if you’re meaning for someone to come. Somebody already is here, you realize. He doesn’t glow like how komorebi reflects on your earth, but at the hues of his eyes you do see a semblance of the roots of earth.

Like two pools of hazel, you see the deeper shades of the sunset.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Ah! Nina!” your friend calls, so you turn to her.

She hesitates a little, setting down the vase she carries right before she picks up the conversation again—first motioning to you, then next to the man.

“Oikawa Tooru,” you introduce. “Makki’s friend from highschool,” you hear her continue. “He’s back in the country for a couple family stuff but his work is in Argentina now.”

You smile, appreciative of the conversation. “Business?”

Oikawa laughs in response, boyish. “Something like that.”

“He’s being humble,” you hear Takahiro chime from across the shop. “That’s the shit he does when he wants to be smooth around a girl,” he adds, laughing.

The man beside you rolls his eyes, albeit evidently enjoying the light atmosphere in the room. In a sense, you do too, so when your friend joins the other two in their laughter, you contribute to the happiness with your own chuckle.

The context of what was going on didn’t exactly sink in quite yet, but you found yourself still in place.

“I play volleyball,” he tells you, a little after when the laughter dies down. He’s still smiling, you note, just like you are, so you suppose that it’s nice that happiness can linger.

“Professionally!” your friend adds, her voice muffled from the distance in between you and her across the room.

“You relocating?” you ask, curious.

Oikawa leans forward, head propped up on his palms, as he shakes his head in the way you assume to be a no. “Just visiting home for a bit.”

“Ah,” you nod. “Homesick?”

He chuckles, airy. “I guess you could say that.”

Oikawa’s pretty, you think. It’s not like Kei’s kind of pretty that’s comparable to the light, but Oikawa’s is more leaning towards the same kind of pretty that’s to be associated with flowers. Like petals on roses, his pretty was classic.

(It’s just a shame that you like the tiny white petals on daises just a little more than the classic red.)

When Oikawa looks at you, and offers a smile that has you feeling like you’re meant to know him as more than just the stranger you bump into coincidentally at the coffee shop, you’re reminded, once again, about how this was another encounter that you almost missed.

-

“It’s nice to meet you, by the way,” you tell him afterwards, when you’re both outside of the shop, the expected goodbye lingering in the air.

It’s you who initiates it. On the other hand, it’s him who tries to prolong it.

Oikawa ponders about what he’s ought to say, pausing just for a few moments before he turns fully to face you, smiling again. “You too,” he chose to say.

(Chose.)

“Almost missed you,” you say. “Glad I stopped by the shop today.”

“Almost,” he laughs. “I almost didn’t come too,” Oikawa admits, eyes to you, present in the moment instead of being somewhere far away.

“But you came,” you laugh.

“And you made it,” he replies.

-

It’s interesting, he thinks.

You, he means.

It doesn’t go as far as saying that he’s only admitting to this because of all the time he has on his hands—as if you’re just the constant that’s there and convenient to think about, but he means it in the sense that he’s aware about you.

Your dynamic with Oikawa Tooru worked well in an odd sort of way. He was polite, much like Kei, and didn’t overstep his boundaries. Looking at him from a wider point of view, it’s safe to admit to yourself that he does check off most of the things written on what you think is your “someday.”

Almost as if you’re satiating a part of yourself and writing a closing chapter for the child within that hoped for a prince charming that would pull out your chair before you sat on it, Oikawa fit the bill to the T.

In contrast to what you had with Kei, Oikawa shared the same boundaries as you did. He never was the type to pry too much, only going as far as asking you a little about your job, but nothing much afterwards.

There was a sort of certainty that you found intertwined with having conversation with strangers. Like knowing names, then seeing boundaries before anything more was breached. A comfort, as you would call it, was given through the fact that the both of you knew the ending to this far in advance.

He was meant to stay in the city—thus your life—for just ninety days at most, given his visa, so you started speaking to him with that in mind. On the other hand, you assumed that he did the same for you.

-

When you move about with the thought that this was one of the things that was certain to remain as just a for now, you find that it’s easier.

You know his name, but this time you know better than to ask for more. There were some answers from yourself you weren’t sure you’d be able to give, so you never bothered to try to ask for the same.

Almost became a word that was bitter at the taste, and you didn’t want to taste more. Perhaps this time around you’d try to wait for what’s actually meant to come and leave that seat empty.

But it’s undeniable, that when Oikawa Tooru smiled, he was pretty.

He always sat in the seat beside the one with the jacket over the back—an unnecessary gesture, really, but it was appreciated.

“So what’s your story?” he asked you one day—today—and you think that he’s hovering just a little over the boundary that had been set. Comparable to a child standing over their parent’s bedroom door, trying to ask for one more snack before they’re sent to bed, Oikawa looks to be doing the same.

He swooshes his drink around with his straw, and asks away, though his eyes are not on yours.

Hesitation is the first emotion you sense—where despite the stillness of his voice—you could still pluck out the shaky foundation it seems to be just thrown on.

Still, you humor him, finding that his curiosity wasn’t exactly threatening. “Story?” you ask, though it was already clarified.

Oikawa hums out his affirmation, still not looking at you. He peeks, though, and at the very last second you catch him staring at you rather intently from your peripherals when you swirl your own drink around and look down.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he laughs. “I’m just wondering why you’re always putting your jacket over the seat in front of you.”

A few moments pass, and he lets it stay, before he eventually clears his throat, breaking the silence before it settles and overtakes the flow of the conversation. His curiosity was something he’s had for the short while he knew you by now, and he didn’t want to let go of the chance of getting answers to it now that you seem to be willing to drop at least a few crumbs of your truth.

There’s not much that’s intentionally hidden, he thinks. The earth around you didn’t look scarred, or too broken in for something to be buried underneath, so he realizes that every bit of your truth was already out in the open. Perhaps it’s masked, or perhaps it’s too intertwined with the vines that it looks natural already, but none the less, he wants to be able to see and read what’s there.

In between the lines, or through the foliage and its vines, Oikawa Tooru can say that he wants to understand and know the contours of your earth.  

May it be as vague as the hue of your sky, and feel of the grass, or may it be as specific as to know the feel of every petal of the flowers planted on your soil, he wants to know something.

But what you give him, in return, is a question of your own.

“What does your someday look like to you?”

Oikawa pauses, his eyes on yours. “My what?” he reiterates, with a chuckle.

In response, you let out a laugh of your own, amused at the blank look on his face. Oikawa looked like someone who was always two steps ahead of whatever was there, in front of even himself, so to see him in this state—a little caught off guard and baffled—it was more or less interesting to say at the very least.

“Your someday,” you laugh, straw pinched in between your thumb and pointer finger.

You watch as he chuckles, one hand behind his head as he exhales a lighthearted sigh, responding, “You’re gonna need to give me a little more information than just that.”

He smiles, blinding. You see that you kind of want to look away. “I’m not someone who’s too smart when it comes to reading poems.”

“So you don’t like reading underneath the underneath?” you ask.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I’ve always been upfront with stuff in a way.”

“Funny,” you retort, leaning forward to rest your chin on your palms. “I was told the opposite about you.”

He raises a brow, still smiling. You’re still blinded, and you still want to look away, but a little later on you find that the light doesn’t exactly burn. So with that, you stand your ground and look. The light at 4PM isn’t anything like 9AM, you think. It’s blue skies and shining skies; white clouds, and a cool breeze. The day feels like it’s been lived—like things are established and there for yours to take—and you find that you don’t know what to think about it.

“So you have dirt on me,” is what he says, and he leans forward, intrigued.

“I’m a lawyer,” you retort. “It’s in my nature to be inquisitive.”

“So what you’re saying,” Oikawa says, slowly, “—is that you look at me like you would look at a client?”

“A client,” you parrot, huffing in exaggeration. “I’m just curious about a lot of things,” you admit. “I like clarity and certainty over standing on stuff that’s vague at most.”

“Plus,” you add, “in what way am I supposed to think about you?”

“As a friend?” you challenge, leaning forward to take a sip. Oikawa tries to steady his gaze with yours, but he swallows, frankly a little nervous.

There’s no answer why he’s nervous, but the feeling settles, so he decides he can’t do much other than simply just let it be.

“Is that what’s open on the table for me to take?” he asks you in return, and when you open your mouth thinking you have the answer, the silence tells you that you don’t.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “That’s something I can’t answer right now.”

“You mean that’s a part of the someday you have yet to answer?” he counters, smirking. The tides of the conversation have turned to favor him, Oikawa thinks, so with that in mind, he treads around his words, hoping not to slip and dive.

But even though he knows how to swim, he was always cautious enough so that he wouldn’t drown.

“My someday looks like that seat in front of me finally being occupied by someone who won’t leave.”

“So your someday,” Oikawa notes, “is someone that’s permanent?”

Shrugging, you explain your thoughts, “It doesn’t have to be someone, my someday can be just something.”

“But a chair’s built with the intention to be sat on, right?” Oikawa prompts, looking at you like the very essence of your truth is dancing right on the palms of his hands. “You can drape a jacket over the seat as much as you’d like but it’s okay to want to save it for someone and not just think that all it will end up being is a something.”

His words reach you, but you stay behind the line.

The wish to jump and dive doesn’t fill you, but the curiosity of what could happen should you take the leap is present enough for you to push for more of the conversation. Then like holding your palms out into the sky, you keep your distance from the waters and try to imagine what the waves could feel like under your skin.

Whether the seas may storm or not, you pull back because you realize that it’s the solidarity of the depth that terrifies you.

“Who are you to tell me what my someday is?” you ask, unafraid. Behind the boundary, you’re safe, and your feet are planted within the soil of a steady earth.

Across you, Oikawa gives you the sight of the skies, but also give you a glimpse of the seas.

It holds a promise, you see. A pandora’s box—but that’s the thing. A box like that was never meant to be opened.

You pull back before you can give yourself the chance of even opening your palm.

But Oikawa insists—in the way that doesn’t terrify you, but you find that it doesn’t exactly convince you well enough either. “I’m just showing you a different angle,” he explains. “You miss a lot when you just look at things from a first person point of view you know.”

“What if my reasoning already feels complete to me though?” you retort, out of curiosity, not necessarily aggression.

“Then that’s for you to live out,” he smiles. “I’m not gonna dig in places I’m not welcome in, but I can just tell you things you either could choose to believe or not.”

“So someday,” he sighs, as if he’s been holding his breath for this long while. Perhaps he has, but you don’t ponder too long in regards to it. “Your someday at least, is just whatever lands in that seat.”

You shrug. “I guess, but I hope it’s something good.”

“Or someone great,” he smiles, still offering his little variation of a truth.

“You’re really pushing that agenda huh,” you laugh.

“I can stop if you’re uncomfortable,” he replies, joining you in your laughter.

You smile, then make known your honesty, saying, “Who says I would even listen to you?”

“Ah,” Oikawa nods. He looks at you, then at the seat that’s empty beside him. “So would the someone that’s bound to take this seat be someone you’d listen to?”

You laugh, choosing to glaze over the metaphor he lays for you to uncover and instead just keep yourself safe at the distance. “Hopefully,” you shrug.

“I got a lot of hopes for my someday,” you smile. “I just hope it looks like happiness.”

“Why?” Oikawa prods. “Aren’t you happy now?”

Smiling, you poke a little bit of the more vulnerable end of your truth. “I am,” you confess. “My happiness is my nine am sunshine and pastel highlighters. So I can say that I really am happy.”

“But more happiness is always welcome,” you add, wistful.

Oikawa recognizes the look of yearning quick, but he doesn’t dig. Neither does he ask, nor prod—instead, he just lets you be.

He lets the empty seat stay empty, and doesn’t question it when you stare at the spot a little bit longer every time you turn your head towards it again.

“Something or someone good is something constant right?” he smiles.

You do the same, the truth in his words resonating with you.

All you do is smile, and Oikawa already hears what you mean to say.

(He hears a yes that holds all the longing your heart tries to rewrite as strength.)

-

What Kei does, on the other hand, is do a complete 180.

From an outsider’s perspective, it looks more like an odd dynamic if anything. There’s the awkward glance, when you catch each other at the breakroom at the same time, while the box with the remaining two sachets of caramel instant coffee remained on the shelf untouched. Some days you wished for someone who was a little more unaware would just grab at least one or maybe even both sachets, taking it for themselves, so you at least would have a reason to throw away the box.

But it doesn’t work that way.

The thing about almosts, you realize, is that when it leaves, what you’re left to deal with are the tendrils of it.

The things that’s there—that lingers—but in this case, while it’s there, in a sense it just looks like a stain.

Like the ink from your pen bleeding into the paper because you paused too long, and pressed too deep, the things that was yours and his looks like a stain.

It’s not like you take off the keychain or turn from him whenever he said hello if he came across you in the hallways, but most of your exchanges have felt more like the standard greeting the two of you started on.

Square one.

You think to yourself that perhaps he’s become the co-worker who just shares an office with you again, but the more you allow your thoughts to simmer, you realize that at the core of it that’s all he really has been this entire time.

Through the eyes of a poet who chooses to write the things they see through the rose colored lenses, perhaps Tsukishima Kei could have been an almost. The physical manifestation of the someday you’ve been saving the seat across you for, where he answered every metaphor you tell yourself you didn’t even think was there.

(At the truth that had been wrapped with your layers of optimism and false leads of poetry, you think that maybe you had waded in far too deep and held your breath too long, that your lungs just simply gave out.)

You blink.

This wasn’t heartache, but your chest felt dull.

Tsukishima Kei wasn’t love, but he occupied the seat intended for your someday for that short while a little longer than he should have, so like vines wrapping around old stone, you tried to hold onto something.

(Anything.)

Caramel and dinosaur charms; the band aid on his finger, and a quiet look that felt like nine am.

It’s just the difference between nine am and Tsukishima Kei—was that while it was a choice for you to turn your head and bask in the light—at the constant that was the light in the first place, all Kei had been was the temporary caught in the mix.

And by his words, you concluded that he means the same.

Convenience, he said.

A fickle, fleeting thing, when from your point of view, you began to see what could have looked like something that lasted a little longer than that.

You tell yourself that it’s just more convenient that way. Workdays that start from eight, will move through the hours so that it can end at six. You’ll type your files, call your clients, and highlight what matters with the pastel highlighters in the cup that’s been moved from the corner of your desk to the spot right beside your computer screen now.

Kei begins to bring his own, as well as his own stapler, so you think it’s safe to say that that’s all there is to it.

Working around what’s convenient, you mean.

An air of something incomplete hangs around for a while, often coming in passing. Awkwardly clearing your throat when you catch him in the same elevator, or when you hop off your car and he’s just getting out of his. He’s still polite, none the less.

When he sees you by the stock room carrying two boxes of refills for the printer, he takes them from you, even though you had always been the type to refuse with your redundant “no.” In the breakroom when you’d have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach the biscuits at the top of the shelf, he’d still grab them for you.

The obvious change in dynamic was just made known through the drop in conversation.

There was a stop, after the usual hello, and a goodbye, after you’d say thank you because of a favor. Like the both of you finally adhering to just what’s socially acceptable for acquaintances, even though you knew Tsukishima Kei would never be a stranger—these days it’s felt like he’s everything that’s got to do with that.

But the seat’s saved, you think.

Maybe his is too.

Perhaps the difference between the both of you was just that while you wanted to keep it open and waiting for what or who’s eventually meant to take it, Kei seemed to not have much of a problem at letting what’s convenient keep the spot warm.

Too many moments of for-nows, that’s okay at the start, but it eventually turns draining in the end.

Though still, you can’t help but admit that the taste of instant caramel seems a little sweeter than your usual brew that you’ve had for years now.

-

Oikawa Tooru comes into mind when you think of the word that could possibly mend the broken that is almost.

In a way, you tell yourself that there’s a lot that you should leave up to the voice of fate. The final say that it dictates, and the path that looks lit, and well swept, evident for you to walk on instead of the one that’s still covered with vines.

(You’ve always argued with the word fate.)

Though there was a balance of what was given and taken with the universe, you liked to think that at te very core of this all—was a choice.

Convenience was like fate, and with fate, came a multitude of only almosts that exist just to end as is—doomed to never make it.

Left as a comma in a sentence, within a work in progress, abandoned.

Hanging.

But you think to yourself that Tsukishima Kei had a definitive end.

Not as a person, or a connection, because those are just some of the things that’s meant to stay. To evolve. To change.

(Change.)

You think that it’s a little unfortunate how his identity seemed to change when you felt like you were on the cusp of moving towards somewhere greater. But the consolation, after the discovery of what he had made known as his truth, was that perhaps the silver lining in fate was how it often blessed a person with serendipity when they least expected it.

Maybe yours wasn’t the light, after all.

Maybe nine am and caramel was meant to be just a bridge, or a nudge in the direction to have you standing where you are right now, led to this exact moment, and what was meant to be yours—sat in the seat that you had been saving—were the petals in the shade of almonds and turquoise.

A few words spoken in Spanish, where the r rolls quite nicely, and a laugh that feels like he knows your story even without him digging too far down.

There’s bedrock beneath the soil, impenetrable. But Oikawa Tooru digs his feet into your earth anyway, content with what you lay for him in this surface.

(An in between of whether you particularly prefer that or not is caught in between in your head.)

“So what was your almost?” he asks, and ripped from your thoughts, you feel yourself land back into the surface.

At the haze that triumphs over your head, you have to remind yourself that the surface is nice. The surface is where the flowers grow, and face the sun. The surface, is the final product—the defining face—of what you are and what you have.

“What makes you think I have an almost?” you respond, curious.

Oikawa chuckles, evidently amused. “I think we all have an almost.”

With that, you relent; shoulders sagging, though your guards are still somewhat up. They stand guard beside you, this time, instead of cover you directly.

“He was meant to just be that I think,” you say. “An almost,” you clarify, then smile, as you add an afterthought. “I don’t hate him though.”

“Ah,” Oikawa nods, smiling like he just solved another piece of the puzzle. “So it was a someone this whole time.”

At his words, you roll your eyes, but chuckle afterwards anyway. “Was is a pretty good indication that it’s done with now.”

“I never pegged you as the dramatic type.”

“I like to think I’m unperceivable,” you comment.

Oikawa grins, “I’ve always liked solving puzzles.”

“I’m a person,” you retort, “not a stick of cardboard cut-out just to fit with something.”

“So what you’re saying,” Oikawa says, smirking, “is that you’re already the full illustration?”

“I deserve to be the whole piece,” you laugh. “I invest into things that fall in line with that.”

“I don’t think being just a piece right now is bad,” he says. “You’re what, only 23?”

Laughing, you wave him off. “You’re making it seem like I’m a lot younger than I am.”

Oikawa smiles with you, the happiness shared—amplified even. “You are young.”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” you admit. “But I think I’m at the part of life where I should be taking control of my time a lot more seriously. Leaving things up to the universe or fate or whatever hasn’t really been good for me.”

“But serendipity is nice,” he chimes.

And you nod, swiftly admitting that he does have a point. “Serendipity lead me to thinking that caramel was the one meant for me.”

Oikawa stares at the brew in your cup, eyebrow raised in question. “But don’t you like caramel?”

“I do,” you smile. “But not exactly enough to drink it for the rest of my forever.”

“What do you want to drink forever then?”

“You know you jump from one question to the next pretty quickly,” you note, laughing.

“I don’t wanna dig too deep,” he tells you, leaning back against the back of the chair, his shoulders slumping. Oikawa looks relaxed, you note. Like leaves just swooshing back and forth depending on the feel of the breeze, he looks like whether he turns towards the right or left, somehow he’s always going to find a nook to settle into place.

You envy the fact that he seems to be the type to find a place wherever.

“So what do you wanna drink forever?”

What do you see in that seat in front of you?

“Well,” you start, relenting. “I almost would have settled for caramel, but maybe it’s still a drink I haven’t even heard of yet.”

“So like a surprise,” Oikawa grins.

“Serendipity,” he adds, not even a minute later.

You take a sip, the taste familiar. While the voice in the back of your head reminds you that you’ve always been quite fond of the familiar, Oikawa smiling at you like he means to stay with the intention to reintroduce you to something that is everything but that, in a way, excites you.

You grin. “I don’t know about that, but I guess if it’s what’s meant to come then that’s what I should focus on building on top of, right?”

He clinks the corner of his drink with yours, laughing at the dull sound of plastic clashing. “I have a feeling that you think you’re running out of time.”

“So you mean you’re playing detective now,” you say.

“I’m a stranger,” Oikawa shrugs. “I’ll pass by here and after I leave you’ll probably only remember me as that really hot dude you bumped into at your friend’s flower shop.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on your own seat, huffing. “You left out conceited.”

“I think the adjective hot covers the important parts.”

“So you mean for me to just swoon at the memory of you?”

At your words, Oikawa smirks, right before it mellows into a smile, as if he’s triumphant. “So you mean that you admit you swoon for me?”

Knowing that this is mostly just empty words, you only laugh again in response. Not a lot of what Oikawa shows you hangs around what’s vague. You’ve always appreciated the clarity in whatever this was or is going to be, so the smile you let out is honest.

Oikawa stares.

A bit of silence settles in, but you let it, finding it comfortable. A little more passes before he smiles again, his eyes unwavering on yours.

“Did he ever tell you that you smile pretty?”

-

You should have said a solid no.

(Because that was the truth.)

Instead, you remember how you turned away and smiled in a sad kind of way, as if you’re missing something. “No,” you recall you said. “But he knows the kind of coffee I like.”

“And that’s enough for you?” he asked, and when you opened your mouth, thinking you had a response, silence was the only thing that met you halfway.

You think about it. Was it enough?

The more you allow for the thoughts to settle in, the clearer the heartache becomes. You come to realize that there is heartache that’s even present, in the first place, because to an extent you invested a part of yourself into this.

Tsukishima Kei didn’t just become the flow that moved with your day, nor just someone who fell into your clockwork. He wasn’t love, but the idea that he could have been was what rooted itself in your thoughts.

You let him take the seat you meant to save for what you hope would be permanent, and unknowingly, intertwined your vines with his. This whole time, you thought you faced the sun.

But when Kei nods his head towards you every morning as if it’s just a polite greeting—like all you are to him now is just a gesture—you realize that the sun you’ve held this whole time was just the bits that was filtered through the leaves.

(Komorebi.)

There’s an ache, but it’s dull.

The two damned sachets are still in the cabinets, collecting dust, and it bothers you how no one seems to want to touch it. You see the way he frowns at how bright his highlighters are, then try not to remember how

But while you thought that way, what doesn’t dawn on you is how Kei wills himself to turn from the window, and ignore the sun.

Slivers of the light he’s always thought was yours still dance in his desk. The way it comes is gentle; filtered through the leaves from the trees outside, on the canvas of his space he sees spaces. Of where there is light, and where there is shade, there in the spaces in between written are the thoughts he tries to ignore.

Though there was a lot that remained unsaid, the tragedy of the story was made known through the sight of the sun—from his eyes at least—that’s begun to look dim.

Kei stares at the yellow on the paper and thinks it’s out of place. He recalls, even though it’s a memory he actively tries to push down, the coffeeshop the two of you often spent your weekends at together.

There, he was reminded of how perfectly in place he had felt.

There, within your company, and conversation. While you were sat in the chair he thought he had always been saving for something, he hoped that he was sat in the place where you saved for yours.

Though there was the absence of explicit communication, he hoped the little things at least spoke to you. The coffee he used to place on your desk, that was made in the way he memorized by heart now. The pillow that he can’t help but notice you still using, on your chair, and the two pieces of caramel left on the cabinets.

(Like they’re there, just waiting.)

(As if on pause.)

(He hopes that this is just a pause.)

And he wanted to ask you too, to at least put words to perhaps quell the worry undeniably raging in his head.

His mind begs him for clarity—for answers. But the most he can do is feel his fingers twitch and throat lump when you pass him, muttering another, “Goodmorning, Tsukishima-san,” without looking in his direction.

The yellow on his paper is too bright and he hates the way it looks against the ink. It looks like a stain, he thinks.

You calling him Tsukishima-san instead of Kei feels like it’s a stain.

(But it eats him alive when he can’t bring himself to do anything other than sit still, rendered into absolute silence, even as the memory of seeing you at the café yesterday, sat across a man who took his seat.)

You were smiling, like you would towards your 9am everyday, so his words were left to remain as just thoughts.

His thoughts, like being just barely strong enough, almost pushing past that final barrier in his throat, but dying before it could overcome the final hurdle.

You’re more than just a question and an answer, he acknowledges his thoughts say.

You’re more than just pastel highlighters, sachets of caramel, and a stranger with a story that sat in the seat he saved for his someday for a while.

He sighs, his eyes still transfixed on the stain of yellow.

And it’s his almost that had him choosing to look towards you at the very last second, smiling. With patience, he gives himself a countdown from ten to breathe, before he looks at you.

You’re facing away from him, like you have for a while now, but even if the light wasn’t there, in the safety and secrecy of his thoughts, he admits to himself that you’re beautiful.

There’s a lot of uncertainties that come with life, but this moment, founded in the heart of everything that had been unclarity, he finds a moment of understanding. Time doesn’t stop, because it was founded with the intention to move—in a linear pace, so instead of losing himself, he rides the steady flow of his thoughts instead.

As if it’s another secret, he murmurs your name instead.

And because the world is a traitor to the almost lovers who arrived into their own set of conclusions in the silence, you hear him.

You don’t say his name, but he admits that he wished you did.

Like the day before, at the sight of seeing you offer him a smile, regardless if it was just for formalities, his hands are already clamming up. There’s a sprig of your hair, on the left side that’s a little askew, and he itches to reach forward and fix it.

The way you call him Tsukishima-san flashes in his mind again, so he pulls back.

He meant to unravel himself then and there—almost.

(He realizes how much he loathes that word.)

You look at him a little funny, but you maintain your patience anyway. It looks like he’s holding to a lot of something that he needs to say, so even if you’re apprehensive of his intentions now, you think you still have it enough in you to listen.

For a while he gives you just silence.

“Are you seeing someone?” he blurts, the sudden spike in volume of his voice a little awkward.

Furrowing your brows together, you try not to squint towards him. “Why would that concern you?”

“I saw you out with someone yesterday,” he murmurs, his voice more on the quiet end.

Half of him hopes you wouldn’t hear, that the world would be on his side just this once, but as always, it never was one to favor the uncertain.

“Tooru,” you say, testing the waters. “His name is Tooru.”

“Congratulations,” he tells you, but before you could respond, he’s already turning away. You know it’s not like you to leave whatever this is as just another hanging thing with the intention to just be left behind.

But he turns away, rationality tells you.

The more you dwell on your thoughts, you know there’s not much of a need to actively try to seek for closure in something that gave you nothing but blurred lines and a hazy outlook right from the beginning.

You turn away too, but somehow, the silence that you thought you had grown familiar to by now seems a little colder.

There’s sunlight that comes, but it’s filtered.

In the spaces between light and dark, Kei crumples his paper, fishes out a fresh copy from the side, and grabs a pencil to circle what he needs instead.

(When he passes the paper off to you, you try to ignore the way only your name was circled with permanent ink.)

-

“You know,” Oikawa hums one day. “You need to try being a little more blunt.”

The fact that he’s picking you up from work now should have been a red flag, about how comfortable he’s been settling into your life, but each time you think you’re aware enough to ask the question, he always beats you to the punch with something else.

Like now.

His hands are on the wheel, steady. There’s a kind of look in his eye you can’t quite read, and you’re suddenly thankful for the fact that he has to legally keep his eyes on the road, and not on you. He steals a few looks, though, and it’s through the feel of his eyes watching you from the rearview mirror where you’re reminded of how close you’ve gotten to him.

In proximity, literally, and more as just people.

In this sense, it terrifies you.

You don’t pull away though.

It doesn’t feel like things are clicking into place much like it did with Kei, but what you’re holding onto now, you see, is clarity. Or what you think clarity should be like, at the very least.

“Down this street, right?” Oikawa asks, breaking the silence, but not exactly the flow of your thoughts.

You think to yourself that it’s a little odd that he knows. Though the more you put some thought into it, it’s been a lot like it lately. Your car’s been in your garage more than usual, and he’s waited outside your office for a majority of this week. And the last—and the last before that.

There was consistency in his presence—the kind that was so intense and so tangible that it began to have you feeling like you’re supposed to be on the edge of something.

Perhaps right on the cusp of a change, that’s meant to be delivered all in good nature. You shift in your seat, opting to look at the window to your left, thinking that anywhere but the rearview mirror is a good view in the moment, and sigh.

Oikawa catches it, like always.

(You don’t know how to feel about constantly being seen this much.)

“Tough day?” he questions.

“An understatement,” you laugh. You find that Oikawa always has this way of looking at you like he knows you more than he lets on, and while for the most part, it didn’t exactly bother you, for now you find that you have to physically fight the urge to turn away.

In the end, you succeed, because your eyes are on the road ahead instead of towards him. Still, you feel the pull, so the most you do is catch a glance at a red light.

“Tsukishima Kei,” he says, quickly catching you off guard. “I remember him from highschool.”

You shift in your spot, interest piqued. “You know eachother?”

“Just acquaintances,” he laughs, his hands still on the wheel. “Knew him for a while that’s all.”

“So basically strangers,” you mumble.

He steals a glance: one that you don’t quite catch. “Yeah,” he says, hands on the wheel, foot on the brakes, and his eyes on you. “A stranger.”

And it’s in your eyes, that are cast down at his words, as you mumble, “same,” where the questions he didn’t dare pose to you are answered.

He gives himself a moment to take a breath, then when he sees that the light’s still at red, he taps his finger a couple times against the steering wheel before he takes another and holds it this time. “So it’s him,” he says, and the silence has never rang this loud.

“You’re a lot more obvious than you give yourself credit for, you know,” he laughs, a little louder this time when you choose to stretch the silence as your reply.

“And that’s a bad thing?” you counter, challenging him.

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“How are you looking at it?”

Briefly, Oikawa considers skirting around his words, but decides against it anyway. “Like I said,” he says, easing his foot slowly off the brakes when the car in front moved. “You could try being a little more blunt.”

“By blunt you mean….” you trail off.

Down this road, right past the house with the oddly shaped tree, and you’re home. It still doesn’t sink in when Oikawa pulled the brakes before you could even dictate to him where your driveway was.

“By blunt I mean if I ask you why you’re angry, you can answer it without sugarcoating anything,” he says, his hands on the wheel and the key still in the ignition.

Your hands pause before you could feign the notion of nonchalance. In a way, you suppose Oikawa had a point, but like always, vulnerability was something that wasn’t just given. Though to be fair, you didn’t want him to fight for something you weren’t willing to even lay on the line either.

The silence in the car is stifling.

“What do you think?” he says, breaking the tension that’s been steadily rising. “Can you?”

A pause, then, Oikawa shifts, unbuckling his seatbelt to face you. “Will you?”

And truth be told, nothing exactly overcomes you. It doesn’t happen like how they depict in the movies or write about in novels, where you become washed over by a certain kind of grace that’s overwhelming or empowering.

There’s no clarity that gives healing, or answers for the matter, but what does come to you is the feel of your shoulders slumping against the seats as you lean back instead of move forward to leave.

You know you don’t want to stay, and you know you aren’t stuck, but you still won’t move. Simultaneously it baffles you and intrigues you.

Oikawa’s still silent, and the low hum of the car’s engine hums. From the corner of your eye, you notice all the trinkets in the car that probably isn’t his, yet the way he holds on to the steering wheel and relaxes into the seat makes it seem like the latter. Perhaps he just had a way of making himself blend in the background, looking like he’s home even though in reality, he’s quite far from it.

“I’m just a stranger,” he says. “When I go your secrets go too.”

“Why should a person’s pain always have to be a secret?” you ask, letting what comes, trickle.

It starts slow. They don’t come as words, but rather bursts of emotions. You’re apathetic, then you’re tilted. Angry, then okay. On the cusp of disbelief, then tired. But what breaks your heart, you realize, is how you can’t seem to find a trace of joy in any of them.

And that’s when it’s made clear to you.

“I’m angry because there is no joy,” you say, your words coming out slow. Your breaths remain controlled, as is your pose, but there’s a part of you that wishes you’d move. Not in the sense where you’d break free for the sake of letting go, and letting loose, but the stillness grips you too tight and you feel like you can’t breathe.

Letting a semblance of a lifelong ache go should have you breathing by now, but instead you’re here, trying to catch up with air.

It’s disorienting. You’re inside a car, parked in your driveway, with a stranger who doesn’t feel like a stranger sitting on the driver’s seat staring at you like all he’s done his hold life is hold your truth. For the most part, you felt as if you haven’t been holding on to it yourself, so perhaps just feeling the full weight of it now is just overwhelming.

You like it; then you fucking hate it. The notion of risk is terrifying to anyone who’s stood on solid ground their whole life, and now, standing at the depth has you feeling like there’s nothing but unsteady waters beneath your feet ready to pull you under.

You throw a lifeline.

“I’m angry because I don’t want to be just another convenience,” you finally exhale.

“It’s scary, you know?”

“I’m angry because I feel like at my age I should just be saving. That fucking seat across me, investments for the future, and myself,” you sigh. Your shoulders begin to tremble, but Oikawa doesn’t hold you. What he does is lean back, and face forward again, letting what comes cascade over you in private.

“Is that why you’re so guarded?” Oikawa questions, tentative.

A sliver of the aching piece of you leaks. “Does it seem that way?”

He smiles, then crosses one arm over the other. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little more cautious sometimes.”

“But that’s the thing,” Oikawa pauses, “remember to only do that as a sometimes kinda thing.”

“I don’t want my life to just be a series of conveniences, Tooru,” you confess. “I want to be chosen as much as I want to choose. We’re all given a choice, aren’t we?”

He nods. “We are.”

“I’m terrified of marrying because of convenience and washing the dishes too fast because I can’t stand to be in the same room as who I’ll end up with.”

Oikawa juts his bottom lip, then blinks. “Who says it’ll be like that though?”

“Because if you choose what’s just convenient, that means you’re just relenting to what’s there.”

“You’re overthinking this,” he points out. “You’re okay.”

“Now I am,” you reply, voice just barely above a whisper. “But that’s because I’m taking control of what I can now and making sure I won’t end up in that position.”

“You’re gonna be okay you know,” he says.

“You say that like you know what’s going to happen to me to the end.”

“Maybe I do,” he laughs.

You shake your head, choosing to ride the lightness of the conversation instead of allowing yourself to further be pulled under. There’s limits when it comes to giving pieces of yourself to a stranger, but regardless of what you showed, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter.

“You know sometimes I wish you did,” you breathe out with an exhale. “Would you give me a head’s up?”

“Then how will you learn if it doesn’t catch you by surprise? That’s the fun part in life.”

“Making mistakes?”

“Bingo.”

You snort. “I’m not enlightened about anything from this conversation by the way.”

“That wasn’t the point,” he hums. “I got you laughing didn’t I?”

“For now,” you sigh, rolling your shoulders.

“That’s enough.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, instead of stepping out of the car you just readjust your position to lean back against the seat, sighing. “I guess,” you relent. “Thanks.”

His eyes anchor themselves on your profile again. “That’s my girl,” you hear, and by the chuckle you can tell that only means to convey his happiness.

Exhaling a sigh through your nose, you mumble, “Don’t call me your girl.”

Beside you, Oikawa quirks an eyebrow, challenged. “Because it’s too soon or because you just don’t want me to call you that?”

“And Nina,” he says, to which you turn your head to. At your attention, first he offers you a smile, before he continues, saying, “You’re young. You can take a couple detours if you feel like it. Just don’t tell yourself that everyone who takes that seat is automatically gonna be the convenience thing or the one. We’re all in the inbetween stage of life right now.”  

“For someone my age, you talk like you’re so old.”

“Hey,” he laughs, arms raised in mock surrender, “Thought I’d end up in Nationals and only trained in Argentina to get exposure for when I come back home, but now I play for the fucking national team there.”

“Shit happens,” he says. “You never know.”

-

You never know, Oikawa told you then, and you had smiled at him and muttered your thanks before you left the car.

He knew that if he was a little braver, and a little more full of himself, he would have leaned in for a kiss on the cheek at least, but not today. Not with you. It’s not that there’s something about you, but rather, it’s feeling like it’s everything about you.

Oikawa Tooru was never the type to believe in clichés much, so this was considered as one of his predicaments.

“You never know,” as the words Iwaizumi told him when he contemplated buying that ticket back to Tokyo just for a while.

You never know, as the thought in his head when he switched lanes at the very last minute and visited Hanamaki’s flowershop instead of meeting up with an old fling he’d begun to have doubts with.

You never know, as the phrase he tells himself time and time again, because this could lead to something better.

(And it’s you, as the something better that met him in the middle; his heart, unprecedented.)  

He really should be driving home by now, but instead of doing that, he’s rounding your neighborhood two more times.

You never know, he told himself, the day after he met you at the flower shop, phone in hand, three minutes before he made up his mind to press the call button and ask you for coffee the very next day.

You never know, turning into irony because all he knows is that he’s fucked.

The more he thinks about it, he should really have listened to reason instead of spontaneity. He could have stayed on his lane and drove in accordance to his schedule. Had he stayed where he was meaning to go that day, he could have drove down the streets of your neighborhood and not know where to turn. The streets could have stayed unfamiliar, and it would have been fine.

(But that’s not the case, because now he’s going on his third turn, and instead of merging with the highway, he makes another turn towards your street again.

Huh, Oikawa thinks, suddenly remembering the sight of you beside a bloom of hydrangeas. Never knew daises were that pretty.

-        (italics-flashback) -

“You know you really need to stop being so impulsive,” Hanamaki points out.

Oikawa takes the seat across him, sliding in after a quick roll of the eye. Accepting the can the former slides towards him, he sighs, before opening the tab and clinking it together for a quiet cheers.

The brunette sighs. “Just got caught up in fate, that’s all.”

—Fate, like the story that started with hello. Hydrangeas and roses, and a light illuminated that streamed in through the glass, filtered by leaves.

Fate like seeing you against the light of Komorebi, and thinking to himself that perhaps this is what they mean about feeling the roots of a promising maybe take place and hold still.

“Love isn’t just built on fate,” Hanamaki shrugs in front of him. “It’s the little steps you choose to take every day.”

Oikawa snickers. “Wow, so you’re a poet now.”

“I’m not,” Hanamaki deadpans. “You know I’m shit with words,” he adds, holding his bottle out.

Oikawa leans forward and clinks his against his friend’s, laughing. “But here you are.”

“Here I am,” he laughs. “I chose to be,” he says, looking around the shop, the look on his face telling him that this is what he means by home.

(—Like he chose to be here.

Nine in the morning where he should be on a train to Miyagi to spend the last week of his trip. It’s a choice, he thinks, that he made when it was 8:48, and he was still too delirious on the high that he could just about do anything regardless of time.  

At 8:55, despite the truth of the matter shown crystal clear to him, he still pressed on. ‘It’s fine,’ he thought then. ‘Just a quick stop and I’ll still have time to pack.’

And it’s a quick stop that looks like that café down the road, where it’s just a 10 minute walk from your place. He’s never been the type to particularly enjoy coffee as much as you, but he supposes a couple brews is worth it to try. The most he knows is your schedule that runs from eight to six, and that your favorite time of day was nine.

Perhaps it’s how the sun feels on his palms, and the kind of warmth it gives that’s only met through this time of day that makes you fall in love with the hour. From what he remembers about the comments you say in passing, he knows that it’s always under the light like these where you favor having your usual cup of coffee.

And because spontaneity is what drove him to pull at the roots of the maybes that have already dug into the soil, he still doesn’t budge when he recognizes the telltale shade of blonde just a few spots in front of him at the café.

It’s a choice too, he thinks, to nod his head towards the blonde in acknowledgement when he turns and allows for the person behind him to take his spot.

“Oikawa-san.”

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if a greeting was due, but he supposes that social etiquettes dictates the things that must be done, and so, he follows.

“Tsukishima Kei, right?” he asks, as if it’s the first he’s said that name in a while. “ Though a semblance of truth is with his words, he still keeps his reservations.

It’s silence, for the next few while. A couple steps forward, and a silence that isn’t exactly comfortable to prolong or share, before it’s Kei who takes initiative and turns to face Oikawa, as he says, “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Nina’s a great girl,” he adds, after Oikawa lets the silence hang. In front of him, Kei shifts his weight from one foot to the other, basking in the awkward of the atmosphere because of Oikawa’s lack of response.

It doesn’t strike dawn on Oikawa until he’s moved up a couple more spots up the line, where he’s face to face with the cash register, what Kei means to deliver with his words. Mouth forming into a small ‘O’, his thoughts just blank.

There’s a saying that he remembers often, and it’s ignorance is bliss. In most cases, for the sake of keeping his peace of mind, he would agree. In the moment, he disagrees.

“Can I take your order?” was just supposed to be a question, and it shouldn’t have made him think too hard. And looking at it from a more objective point of view, he would have just texted you, asking what you felt like drinking that day, and that would have been the end of that.

Phone in hand, and your contact that he’s still been meaning to save on the screen, he’s halfway to shooting you a text, but before he could, someone’s already beat him to the punch.

“She likes caramel latte with sweetcream cold foam on top on a regular day,” Kei says, beside him, towards the cashier. Afterwards, he looks at Oikawa, adding, “But on weekends if she feels like it, she’ll usually order an iced shaken passion lemon tea with two shots Asian dolce sauce and sweet cream cold—“

“We’re not together,” Oikawa interrupts, though he doesn’t break the chain of his actions. As if running on autopilot, he speaks with a smile, pockets his phone, fishes out his wallet, and hands the cashier his card.

From the side, Kei watches as he smiles his thank you: the first towards the cashier, then next towards him.

“We’re not together,” he clarifies, repeating his words with a little more grip to his tone. “You don’t have to worry,” Oikawa smiles. )

Oikawa shifts, eyeing Hanamaki. “You see,” he responds to his earlier words, “I can think that love is like that—that it’s the little choices and shit, but if it doesn’t work out—“ he pauses, heaving a sigh, “—then I can just tell myself that maybe it’s not meant to turn into love. And that makes it okay.”

The atmosphere dips, and Hanamaki chooses to keep his silence.

He watches as Oikawa nods his head, evidently trying to convince himself. “I’m okay,” he reaffirms, first to himself, then to Hanamaki who stares at him with a careful eye.

“Tooru…”

(And he means when he say that he’s okay, because truly, how could he not be when he’s stopping by your office and seeing you beam at him with the same streams of komorebi illuminating you like a halo behind your head.

He’s okay, when he sees that the purple dinosaur charm still on your keyring looks too identical to the one on Tsukishima Kei’s that’s set on top of his desk, next to a stack of papers.

He swears he’s okay, because a maybe is all this will ever be, and he’s made peace with that. Though on second thought, there was no issue to even make peace about—at least he thinks.

Thinks.

He thinks he’s okay, still, when after you say your thanks, you follow up with “How’d you get my order right?” and when he answers that he didn’t, you looked somehow happier when he nodded his head towards Kei’s desk.

“Ah,” he heard you reply. “Thanks, still.”

There’s a bit of red on your cheeks he wants to blame the light for, but he knows better. Ignorance is bliss, and in the moment, he craves for it.)

Oikawa sighs, leans back and cocks his head back to stare at the ceiling. There’s an absence of stars, but the blankness suffices. To his distant right, he hears Hanamaki swing back another gulp, before he too, follows suit and blinks at the starless ceiling.

“But I’m not gonna lie,” Oikawa says. “It stings a little.”

-

To be fair, he tried to make it only sting. And because the world can only give so much mercy, it only offers him this.

A seat beside yours, under the midnight sky that covers the secrets he knows he’ll have to try to hide. Like the red on his cheeks, the fidgeting of his fingers, and the nervous tap of his toe inside his shoe. You face him, a question in your eyes, but for the while that the silence is one of comfort, he resides in it like he would home.

And it’s nice, Oikawa thinks.

It’s nice to be like this and stay like this.

You can watch the stars, and smile at the moon. Should the world have given him more time than he has, he thinks in another life, he would have loved you under komorebi. Through a foliage of green may the sun come, and you’ll hold your hand out like the illuminated light comes just for you to take.

(And it’s warm, Oikawa thinks.)

(The palms of your hand looks warm.)

“The seat’s already taken isn’t it?” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You look at him, on the cusp of an apology, but he cuts you off before you get the chance to say a word.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice forgiving. When you turn to look at him, he has his own apology in his eyes. “Please don’t tell me sorry.”

“I’m not sorry about anything, Nin,” Oikawa smiles. “I won’t say I was sure about you, but there’s too much uncertainties hanging around for me to try to keep this up. Don’t wanna burden you with that too,” he continues with a laugh.

“You say that Tsukishima’s that almost for you, but you know the difference between calling someone an almost and a maybe?” he questions, though he doesn’t look at you. To the midnight skies he shifts his eyes instead, and so you do the same, hoping to see clarity within the haze of the clouds.

(You don’t see a thing.)

“An almost means that you’re sure about it enough to pursue it,” he says. “An almost means that you’re getting there.”

(You see the moon.)

Oikawa stares at your profile, and thinks of the hydrangeas. “Do you like hydrangeas?” he asks, seeing the memory of you from day 1.

You nod, eyes still to the moon. “Yeah.”

In your eyes, he sees the tendrils of what is meant to eventually bloom as love. “Would you accept it if I gave you one right now?” he asks, prompting the question for his ending.

By some mercy, you turn to him. Mindlessly, you ponder for a few moments, before you shake your head. “Maybe,” you say. “I’ve always loved daisies the most though.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

“Moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?” he asks, sealing the ending close.

“It always looks pretty,” you smile.

He supposes the silence that comes is the first of peace.  A moment more, under the midnight skies, and though his fingers itch to reach forward and hold your hand, he wills it to lie still.

You smile, again, and he knows the clock’s up.

“I think I’ll head out first, actually,” Oikawa says, getting up with a stretch. “Early train to Miyagi tomorrow; might as well make the most of it before I fly back to Argentina.”

“Should I say see you later?” you ask.

“Of course, you can,” he smiles. “But I should probably leave now. Seat’s taken right?”

-

For just a little bit more, the last traces of midnight stays, before dawn breaks.

Hanamaki stands beside him, upper body leaning against the railing, his eyes to the skies, where dawn slowly starts to break. “Did you really cancel your flight?”

Oikawa chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course not.”

“But you extended it,” Hanamaki replies, laughing with him.

Oikawa nods, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That I did,” he admits, nodding his head.

“Never thought you’d be the type to go this far,” he says. “Say if it worked out and she asked you to stay, would you?”

“Maybe,” Oikawa laughs.

“So almost.” Hanamaki notes.

A nod. “Almost.”

“I almost didn’t go to your shop that day, by the way.”

“But you did.”

(A truth he would never replace.)

So Oikawa smiles, blinking at the bleeding colors of dawn that steadily breaks. “I did.”

-

There’s a lot of things about you that Tsukishima Kei can best describe as beautiful.  

Like the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you lean forward and get some work done. Your photos of your friends by your monitor, and the stack of sticky notes behind your monitor that you refuse to throw away because you think you might need them later.

Komorebi, and the filtered light it brings, because it’s warm. The feel of residual warmth that lingers on the surface of the mug long after the coffee’s gone.

A lot of what’s beautiful is you.

Your pastel highlighters, and the way you wave at the cat that loiters around the parking lot.

Tsukishima Kei learns to love the word ours, and further appreciate the taste of caramel only when it’s shared.

Like what he wants to do now, he supposes. Lately it’s felt like you’re starting again, from square one all over again, as he stares at the same contents in the fridge and the cabinets. Only this time, most of the questions he has are already answered.

He knows you like crème brulee over strawberry shortcake and it’s just because. You prefer spring over winter, because the winter’s too cold for you to take. When you say good morning, just to him, it feels nice and he feels seen.

And most importantly, he knows your favorite kind of instant coffee is the caramel ones from nescafe.

Like the two sachets still left alone inside the cupboards in front of him.

“Ah,” he hears, and when he turns, he sees you, awkwardly standing by the door looking unsure about where you are.

“I was just making my way out,” he nods towards you.

Sheepishly shaking your head, you refute his words, “No need,” you smile. “I’m just making coffee.”

“Ah,” he comments. “Busy day ahead, right?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“The other day,” you hear him hesitate. “The thing with Oikawa-san…” he trails off. “I’m sorry if I crossed any boundaries.”

“You’re fine,” you smile.

“And with you—“ he extends, almost as if he’s in a panic. “I’m sorry.”

“I know I used the word convenience, and I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I need to be a lot better with my choice of words.”

When you keep your silence, his eyes snap back up to yours, a little frantic. “Not that I mean it’s an excuse though, I mean, I’m sorry. I want to get to—no,” he interrupts himself, before he relaxes his shoulders with a sigh, and just looks at you, defeated. “I like you.”

“I’m sorry too,” you smile. “I looked at things a little too extremely than I should have, you know,” you tell him. “I think there’s just a lot between us that needed to be said.”

“We never really spoke much out loud,” you note, casting your eyes to the side, towards the cupboard with the two sachets of caramel.

“But thanks for always getting caramel though,” he hears you say, and he smiles. “Thanks for the keychain too,” you add.

“You kept it,” Kei notes, nodding towards your ring with a fond look.

“Of course I did.”

“Can I make you a cup?” he offers, watching you round the corner, walking towards the table.

“Yeah,” you answer. “I’d love that.”

Gesturing to the seat across here he’d take, you nod towards him. “This seat taken?”

Recognizing the familiarity in gesture, Kei grins. Like memorizing the patterns Komorebi casts on the blank space in his table, he finds his puzzle begin to click into place again.

Perhaps this is a start, or perhaps this could be just a detour that will be for now, at best. You smell caramel in the air and see your 9AM light leak through the door and spill into the room. It’s peace, as the place you choose to settle in.

Komorebi.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves.

May it fall on your hands, or kiss the skin on your face. You’ll accept it as the light it is, where it will illuminate you regardless of the patches where the shade overlaps the light. Light and dark, intertwined, but what you hold and feel is still light.

(Still could be love.)

A seat that’s empty, and your hope for the mundane to be redefined into all the words of love.

His purple dinosaur keychain and the fact that the plethora of messages you’ve delivered over moments of little nothings are now pushed back into the light, and made clear.

(Is this seat taken? you ask, much like he did in the days before.)

“All yours,” he says. (You answered.)

(All yours.)

#nc.commissions #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq imagines #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru scenarios #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru imagines #oikawa angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei scenarios #tsukishima kei imagines #tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagines #tsukki x reader

[cheezritsu]

Haikyuu Couple Aesthetics

Daichi Sawamura: good luck charms, front row seats at his games, the mature couple; “mom and dad” of the friend group; saying “goodnight” to one another on your doorstep, sentimental captions on their instagram posts, eating dinner and talking about your day like you’re already married; making plans for the future with one another involved; impressing one another’s parents; the thrill of doing everything together; being each others emergency contact; sleeping so well because your love is reliable and stable. You two are the timeless high school sweethearts, making the unattainable look so easy.

Sugawara Koushi: cafe dates, doting words, “sweetheart” and “darling,” laughing just from looking at one another. The secretly chaotic couple, perfectly curated dates, being approved by all his friends, soft, sweet pecks; random flower bouquets on your doorstep; kissing away your tears; hugs warmer than fresh baked cookies, grading student papers over dinner, smiley face post-it notes in your bento boxes, farmers market dates, always, always knowing each other’s favorite things; thoughtful gifts, mistakenly being called “Sugawara-san” before you’re married, shy smiles, kissing his beauty mark, a relationship as easy as the breeze. You two are like bees and flowers, working in tandem to create something natural and sweet.    

Nishinoya Yuu: cutting class to hang out in the hallways, popsicles melting in the summer heat, tongues dyed red and blue from convenience store slushies, dinner dates with no leftovers, neon colored band-aids, learning to hop a fence, scuffed sneakers, bruised arms. The lawless couple, squad posing in couple pictures, matching dyed streaks, sneaking out past midnight, pulling pranks, sitting on the swingset in the middle of the night, counting the stars over head. Adoring stares, “I’m so proud of you!”, kissing his bruises, screaming out the window of your car on a road trip. Traveling the world together, video messages, blowing kisses to each other, saying “I missed you!” after one day apart. You two are twin stars, constantly orbiting each other and burning brighter, together.

Tanaka Ryuunoske: shaving his head, mini skirts, being Saeko’s favorite, troublesome trio antics, late night food runs, horror movie marathons, couple gym workouts. The unexpected couple; getting compliments from the eldery on how cute you two are, flipping off his teammates while you kiss in front of them, excessive worrying, scaring off any boys that look at your wrong, the “Will Smith gesturing to his Wife” meme; thinking you’re too good for this world, calling each other “bro” romantically, kissing him after winning games, placing a beanie over his head in the winter, taking unflattering photos of one another with the most sincere captions. You two are the moth and the flame, drawn together by an inexplicable pull. 

Tsukishima Kei: Wool overcoats, headphone splitters, dogeared textbook pages, study dates, strawberry desserts, “This song reminded me of you.” The better than you couple, wearing his t-shirt to sleep, borrowing each others sweaters, kissing his bruised fingers, hiding in his jackets, going to the same university, softly singing in long car rides, always slightly touching one another, quick, secret kisses, height difference jokes, moon-centric nicknames (“moonbeam,” or “moonshine”) trying on his glasses, mirror selfies,sharing record collections, concert dates; weekend dinners at Tsukishima’s childhood house, being adorded by his teammates, dinosaur themed gifts as a joke, Studio Ghibli movie marathons, listen parties as dates, opening up to one another, “quit staring at me” “but I love you;” him constantly smiling when you’re next to him and denying it ever happened. Sharing insults as a love language, being soft when the time comes, humming into his hair as you fall asleep together. You two are a sweet, slow ballad; a duet between lovers in perfect harmony. 

Akaashi Keiji: library dates, meet cutes, book recommendations, fancy dinner dates, proofreading each other’s work, cuffed trousers, trench coats, french perfume, dainty jewellery, knuckle kisses, the academic couple; good grades, pet names, longing glances, visiting each other’s jobs, sharing clothing, reading books over his shoulders, cocooning in linen blankets, the scent of fresh laundry and lavender, running your hand through one another’s hair, smoothing wrinkles out of his works shirts, working around each other in the bathroom in the morning; matching schedules, museum dates, “you’re the Romeo to my Juliet.” “please don’t die for me.” Literature references, letting Bokuto third wheel, being the smartest couple in the room, massaging one another’s shoulders after long days, words of affirmation, sitting on top of his desk, smiling as he edits another page; “are you coming to bed?” ‘quick, secret smiles. You two are matching portraits in a museum, your love equally as timeless and beautiful. 

Oikawa Tooru: alien bandaids, golden hour selfies, matching skin care routines, wrapping his bandages, phone calls to remind him of things, leaning his head on your shoulder, the king and queen couple; listening to each others insecurities, being his biggest cheerleader, holding your face like it’s the whole world, helping him learn spanish, constantly bragging about one another, stupid nicknames in each other’s phones,  “~Iwa-chan!~”, the Seijoh team rolling their eyes at your PDA, threats from Iwaizumi, making promises you intend to keep, being his rock, letting him cry if he needs to, petty rants, keeping nail files in your purse, knowing the real him, framed couple pictures, teasing him with the team; “I have faith in you;” being there when each other needs it. You two are beloved monarchs, ruling your domain hand in hand with benevolent smiles. 

Kuroo Tetsuro: matching leather jackets, red lipstick kisses, theater hopping, chemistry puns, trying (and failing) to get rid of his bed head, constantly handsy, late night drives, cram sessions, lipstick smudges on his neck, “I’m always this kind,” Yamamoto crying in the distance, “Kenma, love us!”, being double trouble, the power couple; better grades together, singing off key, ugly couple photos, sleeping on the train, awful, cackling laughter, adored by his grandparents, stroking your hair as you fall asleep curled onto a too small couch; making it work no matter what, your eyes shining with pride at all his games. Being on the same wavelength, adoring stares while brushing your teeth, kissing him by his tie, making out in the back of taxis, pulling him into a well needed hug without thinking, playing with your food, whispering ‘I love you’ into the crown of your head. You two are immortal lovers, reunited in this life, and all those after. 

Osamu Miya: late night diner runs, lazy mornings in, being business partners, staying up late drafting new menu items, slow dancing in the kitchen, all you can eat buffets, roses before every date, subtle pda; the domestic couple; matching outfits, holding hands with intertwined fingers, clutching your chests with heavy laughter from each other’s jokes, eating half each other’s plates on dinner dates; devouring ice cream by the tub while bingeing television shows, treating grocery store runs like dates, falling asleep to his heartbeat, comfortable silences, long talks while washing dishes, baking cookies at ungodly hours, hanging onto one another’s arms, sneaking away from parties to be alone, tracing patterns on one another’s skin, whispering “I love you” when the other isn’t listening, temple kisses, side hugs, growing into one another, cooking food as a love language, having immense pride for the one another. You two are best friends, falling in love with each other over and over again every day.

Atsumu Miya: neon colored lights reflecting off his hair, open mouthed kisses, toothy smirks, house parties, being one another’s arm candy, diamonds glinting under flashing lights, breathlessness, wandering hands, showering together, black lingerie, superfluous travelling, first class seating, poorly concealed hickies, clinking champagne glasses, “That’s my girl/boy!” wearing his track jacket, selfies in expensive hotels; the celebrity couple, “I don’t speak broke,” shiny engagement rings, paparazzi photos, explicit pictures, red sports cars, winks meant only for you, hands on your waist, matching manicures, tipsy kisses, flaunting cash, making out on kiss cams, holding ring covered hands, never being alone; cheesy romantic texts, only having eyes for one another. You two are wrapped around each other’s fingers tighter than a bandaid, and that’s how you like it. 

#sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #Nishinoya Yuu #tanaka ryuunosuke #tsukishima kei #akaashi keiji #oikawa tooru #Kuroo Tetsurou #osamu miya #atsumu miya #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya twins #nekoma #fukurodani #karasuno #inarizaki #haikyuu!! #hq!! #haikyuu aesthetic #hq!! aesthetic #haikyuu!! x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #akaashi x reader

[animc]

surprise — tsukishima kei

⇢ pairing: tsukishima kei / reader 

⇢ synopsis: in which you want to surprise your boyfriend at work for his birthday, but he ends up surprising you.

⇢ word count: 3,245

⇢ genre: smut, fluff

⇢ notes: museum curator!tsukishima (...timeskip!tsukishima yes), girlfriend!reader, established relationship, a bit of cursing as usual, semi-public sex, oral sex (female receiving), this stuff was kind of inspired from real life lol i was not a good teenager sorry... but happy birthday to the love of my life for 6 years and counting, tsukki ♡

“YOU COME HERE often?” you asked Tsukishima, propping a hand on the wall of the entrance of the museum as you looked up at him with fluttering eyelids. It was a poor attempt at flirting, and you were well-aware of how exactly your boyfriend will react, but it was still worth a try to catch him off-guard.

A look of confusion washed over Tsukishima’s face for a split second before his expression went back to being a mix of disinterest and boredom. “I work here,” he deadpanned, adjusting his glasses and lifting his weight off the wall he was resting on. “More importantly, why are you here?”

His question was gruff, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he didn’t want you to be there. But you knew him well—of course you did—so you didn’t miss the slight tug of his lips upward and the hand that reached out to grab yours.

You interlaced your fingers with his. “Nothing much. I just felt like visiting the museum my boyfriend works at on his birthday.” A grin made its way to your lips, and you tugged him towards the wooden doors of his workplace. “Care to show me around during your break, sir?”

Tsukishima huffed but let himself be dragged inside anyway. He knew you weren’t as interested as him in the line of work he did and remembered how you were on the verge of failing both your history and science class when you were in college together that you shuddered at the mere thought of memorizing years and complex names of wildlife. 

You walked around aimlessly with your boyfriend in tow, passing several paintings and sculptures that you were almost sure you had seen in some brochures filed neatly in his room but never had the chance to look at (in favor of lying down on his lap as he read). You only stopped in your tracks when you caught a glimpse of a life-sized dinosaur display. 

You hurriedly rushed over with Tsukishima and looked at it with eyes so bright you looked like you won something. “This is the one in your room!” you exclaimed, pointing at it with your free hand, feeling a rush of pride at remembering something important to try and hide the fact that you absolutely had no idea what kind of dinosaur you were gushing over.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima mumbled, not having the heart to tell you that what you were showing him was a Tyrannosaurus Rex and not the Allosaurus on his bookshelf. How could he, when you were looking at him like that? 

Your eyes were warm and tender as you gazed at him, the side of your eyes creasing because of the smile you gave him. You even bit your bottom lip as you did so, a habit of yours whenever you weren’t sure of something and looked to him for reassurance or whenever you wanted to hold back a laugh when he made a snarky or suggestive remark. 

He loved that look, so much that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He stared intently and hardly batted an eye, feeling something gnaw at him at the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, hard, knowing this was not the right time for it, not when he had half an hour to get back to work.

As if you heard his thoughts, he felt your palms cup his face to pull him in for a quick kiss. Your lips were as sweet as they were last time, when he dropped you off at your apartment after a date over a week ago, and the first time, when you leapt into his arms from joy in passing a class he tutored you in a year ago. You almost always seemed to know when to do the unexpected, and though he loved it, it frustrated him to no end that you could leave him flustered over something so simple.

“[Y/N].” Tsukishima’s voice was soft but stern that it made you stop giggling, feeling like he was a parent calling you out. He grabbed your wrist with a grip gentle enough to not hurt you but firm enough to make you follow his pace as he walked with quick and long strides towards the elevator in the corner of the exhibit area. All the while, he made no attempt to initiate a conversation, even as he brought you inside the lift and jabbed at a floor number.

You watched his reflection through the metal doors, but as usual, he didn’t give anything away with his expression. “Did I do anything wrong?” you cautiously spoke up, trying to figure out the situation on what made him so quiet. Should you have mentioned that you were paying him a visit today? Should you not have kissed him in front of some kids and the giant dinosaur on the first floor? 

His eyes moved from the buttons he seemed to be fixated on to rest on your figure’s reflection. “Quite the opposite, actually,” he responded curtly, not even bothering to explain any further, as the elevator doors opened. 

A fairly large sign that read, ‘UNDER RENOVATION! COMING SOON!’ greeted you both, but he ignored it and tugged you along with him into the dimly lit floor that seemed new and well-kept rather than old and dusty. 

You didn’t even have the time to admire the artifacts displayed as Tsukishima proceeded to cross the dull halls until he settled on what seemed like an empty area that smelled of fresh paint. You felt him let go of your wrist, but it wasn’t long before you were backed up to a wooden table in the corner of the room. “Kei, what are we do—”

Tsukishima was so on edge that he just simply dove in to kiss you, much different from the way you pecked his lips a few moments ago. It was intense from the get-go, and he was relentless in his pursuit, his tongue grazing over yours to deepen the kiss.

You responded almost immediately, your body keening into his touch. Your arms found its way around his neck as you kissed him back with the same fervor and passion. You could feel a heavy pulse beginning from deep within your core, and you knew you were about to lose yourself in the heady rush of excitement from the situation you were in with your boyfriend.

From the years you have known Tsukishima and the year you have been dating him, you knew all too well how calm and collected he was. He hardly let anything faze him, and he almost never showed if something or someone did. But now, here he was, pupils dilated and breathing heavy with need, and it was because of you.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “I’ll stop if you don’t want to do this right now,” he murmured, hot breath fanning your face as he studied your features. “But it’s safe here.” 

A shudder forced its way up your spine. You rarely saw this look in his eyes, where it seemed like he could snap at any moment and whatever self-control he had built up was on the brink of breaking down. 

You hadn’t taken a breath in what seemed like an eternity, so you shakily whispered your reply, “I want you, Kei.”

Tsukishima said nothing more as he closed the gap between you two once again. He kissed you slowly at first but soon, his soft lips were pressing against yours harder with fervent desperation. His tongue traced over the roof of your mouth before brushing against yours agonizingly slow, a sudden change of pace that had you whimpering. The hands on either side of you on the table trailed down your waist until one moved under your blouse while the other went to grip your jaw.

Your mind was slowly going into overdrive, overwhelmed with the desire to touch and be touched by Tsukishima. You took the time to let your hands roam from his shoulders, arms, then finally settling down on his back. Not satisfied enough, you pushed yourself against him, wanting to feel more of him that you rubbed yourself against his body. 

Normally, all this would have made you feel embarrassed, but this situation right now was definitely not the usual. 

His nimble fingers traveled from the lowest part of your stomach up to your chest, pushing your blouse all the way up and pulling down your bra to expose your breasts. He broke your kiss with a small smack of his lips and wasted no time delving down to wrap his lips around a perked nipple. His free hand moved towards your other breast, thumb flicking against your nipple, as if to give it equal attention. 

A staggered breath escaped your lips. His tongue and fingers were warm against your skin, and it felt like heat was shooting from your chest to your core from his simple actions. You gnawed the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep your sounds to yourself, considering the situation you were in, that you didn’t even realize Tsukishima spoke until he lightly tapped your waist.

“Sit,” he simply repeated, taking off his glasses and setting it down near the edge of the wooden table. His eyes were dark as he gazed at you, but he made no move to touch you this time. 

Instead, he waited.

You refused to meet his eyes, though you slowly let go of him to do as you were told, tiptoeing before sitting on the cold surface. Even if this wasn’t the first time you were having sex with your boyfriend, this was definitely the first time you were doing it outside of your homes—at his workplace nonetheless. This made the ordeal seem even more shameful, besides the fact that you were squirming with just Tsukishima watching you.

His hand cupped your cheek which forced you to look straight up at him. “Do you want to keep going?” His voice was deep and rough, like his throat was dry, yet his eyebrows were furrowed, hesitation and concern pushing his desire away.

It took a few moments before his question sunk in, and when they did, you squeezed your thighs together, trying to hold your heart back from crawling out of your throat to beg him for it. “Y-Your work…” you trailed off, gaze falling to his lips and involuntarily recalling the way he kissed you long and hard earlier. “We, uh, we—”

Tsukishima interrupted you, firm yet voice barely above a whisper, “I asked you, [Y/N]. Do you want to keep going?” 

You bit your lip, mulling over his question again. Your hands were balling into fists with the fabric of your skirt in your hands, and you found Tsukishima’s large ones placed on top of yours, as if it was his way of reassuring you, whatever your answer may be. “Y-Yes, please.”

He pecked your lips, whispering against your mouth, “Good girl.” He pushed the sleeves of his blazer and sweater up to his elbows before hiking your skirt up to reveal your baby pink cotton panties (that you haphazardly picked off your fresh laundry without much thought) and holding your thighs apart to keep you from hiding from him. Tsukishima kneeled, faced with your clothed core directly because of his height, a deep breath escaping him and hitting your skin which made you shiver. 

You could already tell the wetness pooled in between your thighs, and it definitely didn’t help that your boyfriend wasn’t saying anything about it when he would usually make remarks in the past to work you up (or embarrass you). Instead, you felt his fingers experimentally touch you then trace figures onto your dampened underwear, which left you a mewling mess. “M-More, please,” you repeated over and over again like a broken record, your left hand finding solace in his soft blond hair while the other held onto his shoulder. 

Tsukishima grunted in response, giving in to your request, knowing there wasn’t much time to make you ask for it. He hooked his fingers on the side of your panties and drew them down to your legs, immediately getting to work and inserting a finger at your entrance to dip and feel the inside of your tight muscle. A second finger of his easily slid through the thick wetness of your folds, and he groaned as he felt you tug on his locks and clutch onto the fabric of his blazer when he started thrusting slowly.

“Oh—Oh fuck,” you moaned, feeling pressure build up on your lower stomach the faster Tsukishima went. “Don’t stop, please,” you begged, white spots clouding your vision and thoughts becoming a tangled web that the rest of what you let out were nothing more coherent than ‘please’ and ‘Kei.’

He snorted in amusement, and you could almost see the smirk on his features even as your eyes were shut tightly from pleasure. “You’re being so good for me, baby.” He lowered his head a bit and kissed your inner thigh as his movements never faltered. He saw the gentle quiver of your muscles—a sign that you liked what he was doing and that you were getting, bit by bit, closer to your high. “I guess I’ll have to return the favor, hm, [Y/N]?” His voice was so low and so close to where you needed the most that it gave you goosebumps.

Before you could even muster a reply, you felt his hot tongue lick a stripe up your wet slit. You let out a gasp from his sudden action, which made you buck against his mouth and fingers instinctively, and the table underneath you creaked in protest. You looked down, the same time he moved his gaze up, to tell him that you couldn’t last much longer, but all words left your mouth as you made eye contact with him. 

Tsukishima’s eyes were narrowed with lust, yet he took his time and roamed. He roamed your expression of pleasure as you tried your best to hold back your sounds with your lips between your teeth, and he roamed your body with his tongue flicking against your clit before sucking on it hard in a persistent routine, as if he was trying to find a way to make you lose control.

And you did.

Your entire body stiffened, and your hands abruptly let go of him to grip the table for support. It felt so good to have him on you, hands and mouth, and it was driving you insane that you couldn’t fight back the moans and screams of his name spilling from your lips. “A—Ah, there! Kei, s—so good,” you slurred your words, forgetting where the two of you were but not really caring when you remembered anyway.

As if that wasn’t enough, Tsukishima added a third finger and curled his digits at that angle to hit your sweet spot as he pumped in and out of you. Beads of sweat were quickly forming on his forehead, and the veins on his neck were pulsating, but he was determined to overwhelm you and get you to where you both wanted.

With the pace he was going, it left you squirming above him, and the fire surging throughout your body burned brighter and hotter with each thrust and each lick. “Shit, I’m going to—I’m going to cum,” you warned him, your hand finding its way to his face to brush his bangs out of his eyes in a moment of romantic intimacy.

Under hooded eyelids and behind blown-out pupils, he intertwined the fingers of his other hand with yours and quirked an eyebrow—a cue for you to cum for him. All the while, Tsukishima was unrelenting with his movements and hardly let a second pass without giving your body attention whenever he caught his breath momentarily during your heated situation. 

With one last brush of his long and slender fingers against your spasming walls and one hard suck to your sensitive clit with his warm mouth, you came undone. The only thing you managed to scream was his name until you felt all the air leave your lungs and the tension built up in your body spill over. Your whole body shuddered, and you felt the most intense climax course through you that it made your head spin.

It took you a minute or two before you could come down from your high, but your teary eyes never left your boyfriend’s, who became preoccupied with sliding his wet fingers into his mouth to taste the mess you just made because of him. As he did so, he stared at you and smirked when you had to turn away from him, feeling the heat rush from your core to your cheeks.

“[Y/N],” he hoarsely rasped, a playful tone in his voice. “You’re shy now, after all that?” 

You closed your legs the moment you felt him release you from his grip. “Shut up,” you grumbled, lightly pushing him away from you, in a feeble attempt to ease your sudden bout of timidity after being eaten out.

Tsukishima chuckled but, nevertheless, said nothing else. He trailed hot and open-mouthed kisses on your body as he rose from his spot on the floor. He only stopped to take out a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe off the hot liquid on your thighs. He lifted your poorly-chosen and less-than-sexy underwear that was pooled around your ankles to put them back to where they were on your hips. He spent the next few minutes tidying you up, maybe to make it seem like this never happened when you went back downstairs.

Even as he went about his boyfriend duties skillfully and wordlessly, you were acutely aware of his haggard breaths and the painfully hard tent in his pants. You thumbed over his buttons to open them, but he stopped you.

He carefully peeled your hand away from him to place it on your lap and kissed you gingerly on the top of your head. “I can wait.” 

“But,” you protested, a pout forming on your lips. He had just given you the orgasm of your life, on his birthday no less, and you wanted nothing more than to do the same for him. The reason you were here in the first place was because of and for him, after all.

There were a dozen of lines Tsukishima had in his mind to dissuade you, but he settled on one that would definitely leave you wanting more of what had transpired just now. 

“Later, baby,” he cooed, for the second time today, using the pet name he only used inside the confines of your room. If you liked to pull the unexpected on him, he absolutely knew how to turn the table around with ease and decisiveness. “I don’t want to cum in my pants. I want to cum inside you.”

Just as he had predicted, you brought a hand to your face for a second, always being taken aback by how he could say the most shameful of things without batting an eye. Even so, you masked your secondhand embarrassment with a heavy sigh of defeat then a puff of your cheeks. “Fine, but only because it’s your birthday.”

In return, Tsukishima had a shit-eating grin of pure satisfaction. Maybe being the birthday boy had its privileges.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima smut #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #miri #wrietings #tsukki

[frogtanii]

hq boys as the crimes they’d commit

warnings: CRIMES, crackfic, probably many typos idk i’m so tired lmaooo, cursing, drinking ??? idfk 😩💦

an: and i did this for what?? inspired by hq hcs royalty @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock (AJSKSJ SORRY FOR TAGGING Y’ALL IF YOU SEE THIS, IT IS DEF NOT UP TO PAR W Y’ALLS WORKS ILY)

karasuno

sawamura daichi- insurance fraud!! somehow this is such a dad crime to commit?? dadchi didn’t try (dumb excuse, how do you accidentally commit insurance fraud smh) to commit insurance fraud but at one point in his late-thirties, he was very very broke and was already working as much as possible so, he decided to fake an ankle injury, as you do, and filed a bunch of claims which made him bank. daichi kept doing it until he was able to quit one of his jobs and buy himself a really nice suit and a rolex (uhhh 🥵). he somehow never got caught tho and to this day, none of his friends know how he was able to afford a tesla on a cop’s salary (sorry daichi but acab 😔✨)

sugawara kōshi- child abandonment!! ok you can try and fight me on this but i feel in my bones that suga absolutely despises children. he can tolerate ages 10+ but anything younger than that, he will punt them into the next dimension. the thing is, people just assume he likes kids because of how good he is with his team which is why his aunt begged him to babysit his nephew taro. taro was being an absolute brat when suga took him out for the day and he was 👉👈 this close to snapping. he put taro down for like 3 seconds to pay for their ice cream and when he turned back, the demon spawn was gone. he panicked, running around the park looking for taro when it turns out, taro was just bent down behind the bench. some random karen called the police and suga has never craved murder more.

nishinoya yuu- arson!! you CANNOT tell me nishinoya doesn’t have a ~murder~ playlist that he listens to to get himself hype (me too noya, me too). one night, he got a lil too hype listening to start a riot by duckwrth and watching demolition videos on youtube. he snuck out of his house to an empty shed like 30 minutes away and maybe... lit it on fire while genocide by lil darkie played on a speaker nearby. what he did NOT anticipate was the absolute size of the fire so he freaked out and called the firefighters who promptly called the police. he didn’t want to get grounded so he called daichi to bail him out. daichi still told noya’s parents 😔.

tanaka ryūnosuke- vandalism!! tanaka had been on alt tiktok and saw a group of cool friends spray painting an abandoned building. he thought “that’s cool, lemme do that!” but then he realized he had no friends (AHDGS JK I LOVE TANAKA). he asked nishinoya who was grounded from the arson incident and he knew he definitely couldn’t ask daichi, suga, asahi, or enoshita so he decided to go it alone. that proved to be a MASSIVE mistake. he got the supplies, arrived to the building of his choice (thanks saeko :3), and decided to spray paint a huge p3ni5 in bright red paint. he finished “successfully” and zoomed back home. what he didn’t realize with his two-and-a-half braincells is that he signed his glorious piece with his full name. the cops were at his house the next morning...🧍

hinata shoyō- forgery!! hinata did NOT think that forgery was even a crime. how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t allowed to copy his mom’s signature on a permission form! all he wanted was to go to an overnight training camp 😿

kageyama tobio- attempted murder!! kageyama swears it sounds worse than was and he is absolutely incorrect. what happened was so much worse. he and hinata were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater (you can’t tell me they haven’t done some dumbass shit like this) and kageyma lost almost instantly (he has the tiny lungs of an asthmatic). he didn’t want hinata to notice so he held hinata’s head under the water for like 10 seconds. suga walked in though, saw hinata thrashing around in the water and immediately called the police. kageyama never forgave him.

tsukishima kei- cyberbullying!! first of all, i had no idea you could get arrested for cyber bullying!? that being said, neither did tsukishima who spent 80% of his time making fun of people online (and on his real account!! bold). eventually one of the people he bullied (hinata) reported him on instagram and his very lame account was deleted (pls don’t bully people online 😤).

yamaguchi tadashi- shoplifting!! andjksh this is so funny because this scenario has happened to me and i can just SEE this happening to poor tadashi. yamaguchi gets super late night cravings (and usually tsukki will walk with him at like 3 am 🥺 nEWAYS) so he’ll sneak out and walk to the mini-mart near his house. one night, he was so tired but also super hungry so he went onto his nightly routine and basically sleepwalked into the store. he picked out his favorite chips and candy bar (which are sour cream&onion lays and milky ways in case you were wondering 😌✨) and just... walked out the store without paying. the store clerk was mysteriously missing so yamaguchi made it all the way home, ate half the bag of chips and passed out without realizing what he’d done. once he did, he cried for 2 hours straight.

nekoma

kuroo tetsurō- telemarketing fraud!! kuroo originally did telemarketing fraud as a joke?? like he was trying to prank call someone pretending that they had lost their information and they actually gave it to him??? he was mildly concerned but even more excited. he did it over and over again but he never used the info for anything. to this day, kuroo literally has a notebook full of credit card numbers and bank account passwords but he refuses to use it because he believes it’s ✨wrong✨(but it isn’t wrong to take all that information in the first place under false pretenses, not realizing that once people find out, they are forced to close credit cards and accounts but go off self righteous king). once he brought the book up to kenma and he offered to sell it on the dark web. now kuroo feels less bad about what he’s done! :D

kozume kenma- computer crime!! pfttt this one seems kinda obvious but what do you expect from kenma :). he spends so much time on the internet, he’s definitely picked up some less than legal skills that still help him now 👀. kenma did little mini crimes like getting into other people’s wifi but his crowning achievement was when he hacked into the minneapolis pd website and had it so when you opened the page, a black lives matter screen came up. he never told anyone that it was him who did it but he thinks it’s the best he’s ever done.

yaku morisuke- racketeering!! yaku, the feral king, ran an underground gambling ring in the basement of nekoma (do they have basements?? who knows! i don’t!) during his third year. the only reason it didn’t get shut down was because coach nekomata took a portion of yaku’s profits whenever he won (which was literally all the time). everyone on the team has lost money to him which is why they never play with him anymore. they won’t even let yaku play monopoly 😔.

haiba lev- indecent exposure!! poor lev’s head is so empty, he tends to fall for whatever pranks his senpai’s do to him. this time kuroo had somehow convinced him that in order to grow his schlong, he had to run outside naked for 10 minutes because the moonlight had special growing properties. lev was a lil scared ngl because he was already superrr tall and didn’t need to grow his height (or his dick ((boy is hung)) but poor lev is insecure) but he did it anyway. long story short, an old woman saw him parading around the neighborhood naked and called el policia. 0/10 dick did NOT grow and had to spend a night in jail naked 😿

aoba johsai

oikawa tōru- prostitution!! KAKKAKA iwazumi made fun of oikawa for being so shitty and said that he couldn’t pick up anyone if he tried. flattykawa took this as a personal challenge and went out onto the street, asking people if they’d have sex with him. with the way he was asking (and the way he was dressed), people assumed he was a paid w h o r e and someone eventually reported him. iwazumi had to pick oikawa up from the station- he never let him live this one down.

iwaizumi hajime- battery!! it wasn’t technically battery but oikawa is a lil bitch and overreacts (at least in his words -_-). the amount of times iwa-chan has beat the absolute shit out of oikawa is uNREAL. he just can’t handle the stupidity sometimes so he just smacks the crap outta him. not for real for real but the way oikawa reacts, you’d think a murder was occurring. one time, shittykawa screeched so loud, they got a noise complaint -_- hajime hates it in these streets.

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro- conspiracy!! issei and hiro have a secret blog where they discuss conspiracy theories and such but one day, hiro found an article that explained how jfk’s death was an inside job. he sent it to issei who began to theorize how HE’D do it. that devolved into a massive thread on their blog of how’d they murder a president which blew up and caught the attention of the cia who sent the a letter telling them to quietly delete the blog. they did because they were terrified but they kept the letter and now it’s framed in issei’s apartment.

kyōtani kentarō- assault!! baby is an angry little boy but for all the right reasons. he was at a bar (when he’s all grown up, duh) and he spotted an absolute drunk creep hitting on a girl who clearlyyyy did not reciprocate his feelings. kyōtani, being the respectful king that he is, went over to the guy, pulled him by the jacket and beat. the. shit. out of him. while the bartender was happy with the fact that the creep was out, he was not impressed with the damage to his bar. he just sent kyōtani out who casually adjusted his leather jacket and rings, and hopped on his motorcycle to ride away into the night. i am the FATTEST simp for this man ONG 🥴

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi- stalking!! poor ushijima has no idea how intimidating he can be. he was on a train late at night after practice and the woman sitting across from him left her purse sitting on the seat. being the gentleman that he is, he took the purse and followed her to return it. the only problem is that the closer he got, the faster she ran and when he tried to speak (yknow with his scary, deep, baritone voice), the woman screeched and called the cops on him because he was a “strange, big man who was following her home.” when the police showed up, ushijima was painfully confused and just held up this tiny ass purse in his massive hands. the cops laughed.

tendō satori- ???!! no one knows what crimes (or how many 😳) tendō has committed but each of his teammates have different ideas- ushijima: “i don’t believe tendou is capable of committing any sort of felony. well, maybe murder”; semi: “of COURSE he’s capable of crimes??! do you know how many times i’ve seen him come into the dorm with a suspicious stain of red on his sweater?? *shudders* if i end up dead, tendō did it...” in actuality, the only crime tendō has committed is ~drugs~ but he’s not bouta tell his friends that.

goshiki tsutomu- would be a VICTIM!! my baby tsutomu would NEVER commit a crime!!! i love this man with my everything and the only crime he’s committed is being too damn cute 😤🥺

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #hq hcs #hq headcanons #crack fic #tsukishima kei #daichi sawamura #sugawara kōshi #ushijima headcanons #tendou satori #goshiki tsutomu #kyotani kentaro #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #iwazumi hajime #oikawa torū #haiba lev #yaku morisuke #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsurou #yamaguchi tadashi #hinata shōyō #haikyuu kageyama #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu tanaka #shiritorizawa #karasuno #aoba johsai #nekoma

[flyingraijin]

filed under the tag: #💙  blue thirsts

KEI TSUKISHIMA

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice” 

“Come here, you can sit on my lap ‘till I’m finished” 

#💙 blue's thirsts

[salmonmakiii]

hii! i'd like to request a timestamp if it's okay with you? Could you people write about 3am boyfriend tsukishima, angst to fluff? thank you so much and have an amazing day!! 💕🤗

Heya! Sorry this took long, writer’s block sucks :( I hope this came out nice!

[03:00]

About : Tsukishima x reader Note : Angst, Fluff. Forgive me if I have mistakes!

It was an accident. You and Tsukishima knew that.

But all the pent up stress and those lack of sleep he’s had, being rational was the last thing on his mind right now.

You met Tsukishima 2 years ago when you had just moved to your apartment. He was the next-door neighbor and you would greet him every morning. A few weeks passed and you guys suddenly became friends because you share the same interest; stargazing. The apartment rooftop was perfect for that. You accidentally met up at around 3 am, awkwardly talk with each other, and would go back about an hour later.

You were interested in him and was happy that you finally got the chance to talk. Although you admit, he was a bit cold and snarky with his comments but other than that he was fun to talk to. The next day you met up again, then the next day, then the next, and then the next. This became a regular thing for both of you. Of course, that was before the busy schedule you both had. Now, you’d probably meet up twice or three times a week.

And with that frequent emotional talks, you both grew closer, and eventually, Tsukishima confessed to you one night. So here you were, two years of being together. There were playful insults thrown at each other, but never actual fights. Your favorite was when he would diss you non-stop when you’re not taking care of yourself.

“Can you just eat? I don’t want to drag your ass to the hospital.”

You would often visit him every morning before his class starts and these were one of those mornings. You visit him in his apartment and there you saw his boyfriend, holding his head with his left hand as he held a paper in the other. A thick stack of papers was right in front of him. You’re guessing it was the assignment he’d been working hard on since last week – because he didn’t totally complain to you at all about it for the past week.

“Didn’t you say you have morning classes today?” Tsukishima asked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

“No. The professor called in sick today, so I’m free.” You teased as you sat in front of him. He scoffed and mumbled something about how lucky you are.

“Do you mind if I go get a drink?” You asked, already on your way to the dispenser.

“Sure,”

You gave him a mini thanks and searched for the glass in the cabinets. Once you got it, you filled it with water in the dispenser.

“When is that due?” You asked the glass was now filled. You walked over to him again as he hummed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay.”

You sat in front of your boyfriend once again, watching how his eyebrows were furrowed and how he had eye bags under his eyes. You took a sip of your drink and frowned at your dead-looking boyfriend. You wanted to help him, you do, but you don’t know how. You looked at his knitted eyebrows and an idea popped up in your head.

“Kei,” You called. He only answered with a hum. Pouting, you called him once again,

“Kei, Look at me,” Finally lifting his head, you put on a silly face that he always despises, but secretly found funny.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shaking his head as he tried to stifle a laugh. Seeing that it wasn’t good enough, you leaned in closer.

“I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something wrong with my face, is there?” You asked, still making the face. Tsukishima finally laughed and you were happy to see your boyfriend smiling.

You cheered, but while doing so, your hand suddenly knocks the glass of water in front of you, spilling the liquid all over the table. The stacks of paper in the middle soaking up all the water. The room was now dead silent, both of you staring at the stacks of paper and spilled water with wide eyes.

Your look at Tsukishima and the paper, your eyes shaking at the horrifying expression the boy across you had.

“K-Kei-“

“What did you do?” He asked, his voice low.

“I- I accidentally-“

“Did you know how long it took me to print out all these?!” You flinched at his shout and your feet felt like it grew roots. You stared at him, trying to form words to apologize, to calm him down, to reason with him, anything. But all you could do was stare, mouth agape.

Tsukishima walked past you, going to the kitchen to get a towel. He walked right back towards the table and wiped the spilled water.

“Let me help-“

“No. Just-“ He sighed, scrunching the soaked paper in his hands.

“Just get out.” Tsukishima continued to wipe the table, his back now facing you.

His words felt like knives in your chest. There wasn’t a hint of his everyday cynical attitude in his tone at all and you were scared. Afraid of upsetting him more, you bowed a full 90 degrees, mumbling a shaky apologize as you took careful steps out of his apartment.

If anyone were there to see you walk by, they’ll think you just exited from a murder scene.

Back in your apartment, you sat on your couch, still trying to process all of it. You spilled water into his work he’s been doing for a week and he just kicked you out of his apartment without sparing you a glance. You were screwed.

You jump a little when you hear a door slam, you stared at your door.

Kei must be on his way to campus…

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, you mustered the courage to text an apology to him. Shaky hands and eyes a bit watery when you pressed send. Sighing loudly, you lay there on your couch, trying to calm yourself down and think of a way you could make it up to him.

“Can I send it to your email just in case? You know how my laptop is.”

You jolted from your position, eyes wide. The memory of Tsukishima’s voice replayed in your head as you frantically open your laptop. You opened your email and your heart races with excitement as you quickly downloaded the file as you ran to your bedroom to get your USB. Running back to the living room, you hastily plugged in the USB and surprisingly got it in the first time. Copying the file to the USB, you grabbed your jacket, tote bag, wallet, and ejected the USB as you dashed out of your apartment for a copy shop.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

You leaned on the railings on the rooftop as you sighed. The wind softly blowing against your features as you looked down at the almost empty streets below you. Most of the lights in the surrounding buildings were off and the sky wasn’t that dark anymore. The moon was slightly on the west side, still illuminating the night sky. The stars above you twinkling as you’re enveloped in silence. It’s the perfect night.

After you had printed out all the papers, you put it in two clear folders, re-check the order, and finally set it nicely inside Tsukishima’s mailbox. You text him to give him a heads up, but you’re still worried if he even read your texts. You took out your phone from your pocket, the screen telling displaying “03:00”. You opened your lock, the wallpaper – a picture of you and an annoyed, blushing, Tsukishima – made you miss him even more.

You open your message with Tsukishima, he still didn’t read your message.

What if he didn’t see my message? What if he already printed out a new batch of it? What if- huh?

You eyed your message.

Tsukishima had just read it.

Just as you were still confused about what to do with this information, you hear someone clears their throat behind you. You flinched and turned around. Your eyes meeting those familiar golden ones. Tsukishima was staring at you, his face stoic and cold as ever. He was wearing his grey hoodie with a roaring dinosaur in the middle, his hair was a little messy but it looked cute on him.

“K-Kei! I almost had a heart attack!” You held your phone to your chest in hopes to calm your beating heart.

“You’re being dramatic.” He said, walking up to the railing and leaned against it.

“So, I heard you spilled water on someone’s project-“

“Kei-“

“That they worked HARD for,”

You winced, hearing him emphasize. You stared at your boyfriend and he was staring right back at you with his smug face. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Tsukishima felt like he was scolding a puppy. He felt the tiniest guilt, but he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re here right now, even though you have an 8 am class tomorrow.” He teasingly scoffed. Usually, his teasing would make you feel less tense but it didn’t seem to be working right now. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” His voice was above a whisper.

“Huh?” You snapped your head up in shock. What was he thanking you for?

“I got the package you sent me,” He gave you a side glance.

“But you just read my message?”

“I saw you putting it in my mailbox.”

“Oh,”

There was silence once again. Tsukishima stepped closer and abruptly snaked his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You looked up at him and you can see the small blush on his cheeks, his eyes were looking at anything but you.

“Sorry about getting mad at you,” He said in a rather gibberish mumbling, but you were glad you could make up what he was saying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who spilled that water.” You said, reaching up your hand to pinch his cheek.

“Besides, stop acting like that, it’s weird.” You pulled his cheeks, riling him up.

“Will you stop that?” He batted your hand away and you laughed at his bashful sight.

“Let’s just go back, it’s freezing up here and I don’t want to take care of you when you catch a cold.” He groaned, his hand still around you as he walked back towards the entrance.

“What makes you think I need you?” You pinched his sides.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid you might flood the whole apartment if I don’t,”

“I told you it was an accident you salty excuse of a human being!”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll squish you,”

“If you mean squish as in cuddling, then I won’t shut up!”

Tsukishima suddenly leaned in and placed a kiss to your lips. His actions catching you off guard. He plastered on a smirk, seeing that his plan had worked.

“If I talk some more, will you kiss me again to shut me up?” You asked,

“No. I’ll throw you off this rooftop.”

“You wouldn’t-“ Tsukishima gave you a daring glare, his grip on your arm tightens. You shut your mouth immediately and looked forward.

“Okay! Shutting my mouth now.”

You both ended up cuddling in his apartment that night.

#Haikyuu!! #Haikyuu #Haikyuu!! Fluff #Haikyuu Fluff #Haikyuu!! Angst #Haikyuu angst #Haikyuu!! x reader #Haikyuu x reader #Tsukishima Kei #Tsukishima #Tsukishima Kei Fluff #Tsukishima fluff #Tsukishima Kei Angst #Tsukishima Angst #Tsukishima Kei x reader #Tsukishima x reader #Tsukishima Kei Scenario #Tsukishima Scenario #Tsukishima Kei Imagines #Tsukishima Imagines

[oh-my-may]

Tsukishima, Sugawara and Kuroo getting prank ignored for a day

requested: hii, i really like it the getting prank ignored for a day, can u make this again but w/ tsukki, suga and kuroo

Hiii! I’m finally back??? This took forever lmao and I have to say I’m not this satisfied with it but I wanted to post something again? So I’lllet your guys’ feedback decide :)

Hopefully I’ll be able to work on some more requests until uni starts again, but we’ll see. Enjoy this until then! xx

Tsukishima Kei:

Sometimes Kei was... just Kei. In the months of your relationship he had grown a lot more used to you and you noticed how he softened with every day you spent together. That was... Until exams approached and the volleyball matches got more intense, too.

He forgot lunch dates and meetups, study sessions and he even texted you less. Of course you could understand him, he was very busy, but you felt like air to him. You didn’t even see him in school anymore. You were the one keeping the contact up, he only ever responded to your messages with an emoji or a simple sentence.

It got so frustrating to the point where you thought you might as well cut off all ends for a day. Not trying to get your mind occupied with him, just concentrating on school, your friends and yourself for a day.

However when you woke up, you were surprised to see that he had actually send you a message. Karasuno had a practice match this afternoon and he invited you to come and watch them because he knew you enjoyed watching them all play. You felt a wave of euphoria washing through your body, but then you remembered your little “game” and put your phone away.

by the time you’ve reached lunch you received a few more messages from him, mostly a bunch of question marks because you haven’t answered yet, questions whether you were still asleep or sick at home. You weren’t, you sat in the same places as usual in school.

You yourself grew impatient as the end of school was nearing and you were considering actually showing up in order to see him. You couldn’t even focus on class anymore and that’s when you knew your plan had failed. Instead of being able to focus more on other things, even now your mind was filed with thoughts of Tsukishima.

You sighed and gave up when you left the school building after your last class and saw his tall body towering over the rest of the students. His body language may not be obvious to many other people, but it is to you and you knew that he was searching for something. Looking for you.

You figured there was no way out of this for you anymore, so you just walked your usual way towards the exit, your way crossing him. He almost didn’t notice you right away, but his long arms stops you right in your tracks. “What, were you just gonna walk right past me? You seem a bit distracted today Y/N.”

You can just stare back at him. He doesn’t exactly looks worried, but something in his tone tells you he knows that something is going on. So he wasn’t quite that onblivious, but he still didn’t get what exactly was urking you. “Tsukki, really...” You sigh and move your wrist out of his hand which he wasn’t holding that tight anyway, he was just trying to stop you. “I just thought I could try and ignore you for some time, since I’ve basically been air to you lately with all your exams and volleyball stuff.” You try not to, because you know he hates it when you do, but you can’t help but huff a bit and sound kind of bitter with a slight pout on your lips that forms naturally.

There’s some silence spreading between you and you just look into the distance as you await a reaction from him. He also hates it when you don’t look at him when you talk to him like that, when it’s about something serious. So naturally, you expect a harsh reaction from him, but you’re surprised when his fingertips softly brush the top of your head, his fingers threading through some strands of your hair. When you look up you can actually clearly see the bitter regret in his eyes and face, a deep thoughtful fold on his forehead. “Kei?” you mumble a bit regretful, seeing as he’s really deep in his thoughts over your words.

“I didn’t even notice.” he just answers and puts his hand down, just to take your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. “I’m still not used to this, please excuse my behaviour.” You can just smile and coo at this, squeezing his hand and surprising him when you practically jump up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Just talk to me next time, yeah?”

Sugawara Koushi:

It wouldn’t naturally occur to you to just ignore your boyfriend for a day. Not Suga, since he was practically the sweetest and most considerate human being you ever encountered on this planet and he was cherishing you with every inch of his being. Alone the thought of him made you smile.

But your friends could be evil sometimes. You loved them, they were your friends for a reason after all, but they could do very “cruel” things sometimes, like daring you to ignore your boyfriend for a whole day. You felt like not doing it, but maybe you could proof to yourself that not everything in your life is dependent on him. You are your own being, after all. A day has 24 hours, 8 of which you normally spend in bed and around another 7 in class without him, so that leaves only about 9 hours without him. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?

But your heart already aches when you don’t allow yourself to answer his goodnight messages. That doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal to him though “You’re probably already asleep, huh? Sleep well! I hope you dream of me <3″. You smile to yourself but put your phone away, trying not to think too much about the next day.

In the morning there are already more messages from him waiting for you. “Good morning! I hope you slept well! Can’t wait to see you today <3 You’re always welcome to watch practice if you don’t have anything else to do!” There’s a sting in your heart as you swipe them away and prepare everything for the day. Your lucky it’s a wednesday, that means today your boyfriend doesn’t walk you to school, but you meet your friends halfway to school. You try not to let the teasing get to you and just make your way to and through school as quickly as you can, not even noticing that you rush right past Suga. He tries to stop you in surprise, but he fails because you’re too fast and he’s left wondering. Maybe you just didn’t see him in the crowd of people?

Luckily during your first classes that day you don’t receive any messages, as Sugawara is a responsible pupil that doesn’t like using his phone in class (be like Suga!!) But when you try your best to avoid him during lunch, he gets very suspicious and asks to go to the restroom in class just so he can text you. On the way there he walks past your classroom and can’t help but spend a minute watching you, hoping that maybe through some telepathic power you look his way. Of course you don’t though. Instead you’re surprised how easy it is to focus on class as you try to push the thoughts about your boyfriend away and distract yourself with something else.

As the school bell rings Suga is the first one out of his classroom, surprising all his classmates. He ignores Daichi’s calls saying that he shouldn’t forget about practice today. Instead Koushi runs through the hallway to your classroom to catch you right as you walk out.

You almost scream when you feel someone grabbing you and pulling you aside, until you realize its your birthday. You’re relieved for a second until you remember your bet and then give up with a sigh as you watch your freinds walking by behind Suga, dragging their fingers over their throats and acting as though they’re crying. You drag your eyes back to Suga who looks you up and down more worried than you’ve ever seen him.

“Y/N! What’s wrong? You didn’t reply to any of my messages and ignored me completely during the breaks!” He lloks frustrated and desperate for an explanation and you can’t help but smile a little at his words, raising on of your hands up to caress his cheek. “I’m sorry.” is all you can bring over your lips before you press your face against his chest and wrap your arms tightly around his torso.

You spend a while in this position until you can get yourself to explain everything to him and your voice is so filled with regret he just can’t be mad at you. He couldn’t ever be mad at you. He just tells you to never to something like that again, because he really felt like he did something horribly wrong, and then you walk to his practice hand in hand. Like that, you can even bear you friends teasing. You wouldn’t ever go without a single day without Suga, that’s what you learned.

Kuroo Tetsurou:

It was a dumb idea, really. You would have never agreed to this. But you can be stubborn sometimes, and you also would not loose a bet to Kenma, Yaku and Lev. Ignoring Kuroo for 24 hours - it couoldn’t be that hard, right? “It’s what I’m trying to do for as many hours as possible, Y/N. I would be glad if someone asked me to do that.” Kenma said in an unimpressed manner while not looking up from his game. You sighed and just left them standing there without a word, as Yaku and Lev kept on shouting things they want if you loose the bet. Which was not gonna happen. You hoped.

In the morning it was usually you that texted him first, asking about his sleep and what his day was gonna be like. It was easy not to that, though, because he never answered over text and instead just read them and answered them when you saw him in school.

Getting out of Kuroos way in school was a bit tricky, though, as he normally greeted you in front of your classroom. Sometimes he was already waiting in the door frame. You cringed a bit when you saw him standing there, but maybe the best way to go was just acting as though he wasn’t there. Just dodging under his arm and walking right to your seat and then striking a conversation with one of your classmates as soon as possible so he wouldn’t get the chance to talk to you. And it was even easier to do in practice. Kuroo was caught off guard when you just walked right past him and he could just observe your figure in the room with a surprised look. “Okay.” he said to himself quietly and left and you were almost relieved thaht when you turned around he wasn’t there. Of course it hurt you to just ignore him like that. You could just blame the others if it went wrong, right?

During lunch you literally sprinted out of the room into the restroom and waited a good 15 minuted there. Just so you could be sure he wasn’t in the cafeteria anymore, because he liked being the first one there. You could just imagine him sitting there with a free space next to him, looking around and waiting for you. Your heart clenched and you felt miserable. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. You were just hurting yourself at this point.

With your head hanging down you left the toilets behind and waited in front of his classroom. Slowly all his classmates came and went inside, but Kuroo didn’t show up until 1 minute before the bell. You looked up in relief and then ran right into his arms, almost causing him to fall. “Woah, all of a sudden, Y/N?” He laughs into your ear and you can’t hold back a dry sob. “Yaku, Lev and Kenma mde me do it I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”

Kuroo just giggles even more as he works his hands over your hair to soothe you. “No one can resist me for long I guess.” he sighs and makes you look up to him by placing a hand under your chin. “Yaku, Lev and Kenma you say? I’ll make sure they’ll practice some extra serves and run more laps today.” His thumb travels over the soft skin of your lips as he considers: “Or for the rest of the week, or the whole month, or until the next match.” His hand wanders along your neck until he plays with the hair at the top of your head again. “Just don’t do something like that to me ever again sweetheart.” Then he places a soft kiss on your jaw and vanishes inside of his classroom.

For as long as they have to do extra practice, you don’t get anything else from Yaku and Lev other than evil glances. They still make you buy them their favorite snack, though.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu reaction #haikyuu scenario #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x you #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima reaction #tsukishima scenario #sugawara x you #sugawara headcanons #sugawara x reader #sugawara fluff #sugawara scenario #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo scenario #kuroo imagine #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #sugawara kōshi #tsukishima kei #tsukishima imagine #sugawara imagine

[lustforyuu]

FILED UNDER . . !

karasuno high

hinata shoyo

tsukishima kei

kageyama tobio

sawamura daichi

sugawara koshi

asahi azumane

ukai keishin

nishinoya yu

tanaka ryunosuke

seijoh high

iwaizumi hajime

oikawa tooru

kyoutani kentarou

kunimi akira

nekoma high

kenma kozume

yamamoto taketora

kuroo testuro

fukurōdani academy

bokuto koutarou

shiratorizawa academy

ushijima wakatoshi

tendou satori

goshiki tsutomu

inarizaki high

miya osamu

miya atsumu

other schools

msby

meian shugo

#[ 🍋 ] — HAIKYUU!! THIRSTS

[novum-constellatio]

kagstsukki for the otp ask !!! hehe

- Kageyama Tobio x Tsukishima Kei

a/n: Dani knows how much I adore this ship, so thank you beautiful for requesting hehe - I was also the captain of the KageTsukki ship on Mia’s blog, so I just want to show y’all how much I love KageTsukki <3

warning: none

.  .  .  .          .  .  .  .          .  .  .  .

1. who tickles who more?

I do believe it’s an equal battle, but I think Tsukishima has more “wins” under his battle because I do headcanon Kageyama as being more ticklish than Tsukishima - despite being bulkier than the blond, Tsukishima just knows how to overpower his boyfriend and completely wreck him <3

2. what’s the main reason for tickles?

Whenever they start arguing, they always end up in a tickle fight of a sort, especially if they’re home alone. They also love tickling each other and making fun of one another, especially when the poor ticklee is hysterical. So, the main goal during their tickle fights is to not be the one tickled :3 

3. has anyone ever been bruised or even scarred from a tickle fight?

Yup and quite often! I think we can all agree on Tsukishima having ticklish feet and he knows how to kick them when they’re being tickled. He can’t really control his movements when tickled there and Kageyama did get kicked and bruised quite a few times while tickling Tsukishima. 

4. how often do they tickle each other?

They don’t tickle each other that often, but they definitely make up for the lost time by tickling each other throughout the whole day. Their tickle fights don’t finish until one declares defeat at the end of the day and the other gets another win under their belt. Yes, even tickling is a competition for them :3 

5. who is more likely to tear up whilst being tickled?

Kageyama~ he’s the more ticklish and not used to being tickled so much, and he can’t stop the tears from falling when Tsukishima is merciless! It also doesn’t take him that long to start tearing up, especially when Tsukishima starts teasing him about some of his baby fat or commenting on how ticklish the younger is <3

6. who can stand being tickled longer?

Definitely, Tsukishima because he’s less ticklish and Kageyama can’t keep his hold on Tsukishima’s feet for too long before he’s forced (or, better yet, kicked off) to let go of his feet and Tsukishima retaliates, and Tsukishima doesn’t let Kageyama breathe <3. I feel Kageyama is most likely the gentler tickler who doesn’t go that hard on Tsukishima, while Tsukishima’s motto is: “if he’s not crying and gasping for air, it’s not worth it”

7. who’s more sensitive to soft or hard tickles?

Tsukki is more sensitive to soft tickles while Kags is more sensitive to hard tickles! There was this one time when Kageyama was filing his nails and they were still pretty sharp and uneven, but it turned out that the ever-so-lightly touches of Kageyama’s nail to Tsukishima’s arches proved to be very, very effective. Kageyama will never let Tsukishima live down that high-pitched squeal lol

Tsukishima can literally go as hard as bruising Kageyama’s ribs or stomach, and the poor guy would still be hysterical because the harder the touch, the more sensitive Kageyama to tickling is ;3

.  .  .  .          .  .  .  .          .  .  .  .

#kageyama tobio #hq kageyama #kageyama headcanons #kageyama imagines #ticklish!kageyama #tsukishima kei #hq tsukishima #tsukishima headcanons #ticklish!tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #tickling #tickle #tickle fic #tickle blog #ticklish

[puddingcatbeans]

Can I get some tkym with the lyrics

"I'm happy that in the many thousands and hundred millions

We could have such a miracle as our meeting

And be this near

I'll sing for you

For being born

For being able to meet you

That I can be by your side now

Thank you"

From the song Happy Birthday by News? 🥺

Yamaguchi has been restless all day. It’s not like Kei goes out of his way to notice the other boy---well, it’s not like Kei cares enough to notice anyone else---but even Yamaguchi’s usual fidgeting has its limits. Today, he’s been glancing at his phone under his desk, looking out the window even while Hinata is chattering away at him, spacing out at practise in a way he never does unless he’s sick.

Kei waits until most everyone has filed out of the clubroom before reaching out to place his palm against his friend’s forehead. “No fever,” he comments.

Yamaguchi swipes at his arm. “Tsukki, what!”

“You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Have I?” Yamaguchi’s face goes pink, but his expression turns determined. He’s already changed, clutching his bags and ready to go. But instead of waiting outside like he usually does, he straightens and faces Kei. “Tsukki,” he says seriously.

A bit apprehensive, Kei says, “Yeah?”

“Happy birthday,” Yamaguchi says.

He’s gotten congratulations all day, the announcement made by the homeroom teacher because sensei is that type of person. Honestly, Kei could do without the whole fanfare of it, the way classmates he’s never interacted with wished him happy birthday. The team sang him a terribly off key rendition of the birthday song, which he endured, because technically he’s one of the seniors now and playing nice builds morale, or something. His mother will probably have his favourite dessert after dinner, his brother probably bought him something he doesn’t need but will treasure anyway, not that his brother needs to know. Yamaguchi was the first to wish him happy birthday today---his usual good morning text, with his usual extra emoticons. They have plans to celebrate later in the week with the rest of their friends, but Yamaguchi is looking at him now, in that quiet and steady way of his, the one that makes Kei want to drop everything and listen because Yamaguchi has something important to say. He always does.

“I know that it’s not the first birthday you’ve shared with me,” Yamaguchi says. “And I know it won’t be the last. But I just---I just wanted to say. I’m really glad you stopped that day at the playground. That we joined the volleyball club together, that we’re best friends. I’m glad you were born.”

Kei stares. He’s aware he’s still in his club t-shirt.

“Happy birthday, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, voice soft.

In the quiet of the clubroom, with only the two of them left, no one else has to know that Tsukishima Kei is capable of smiling as wide as the sun.

#tsukkiyama #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #hq fanfic #beanfics #get it bc he's the moon #kingbadcat