#haikyuu fic event

[afyrian]

200/300 FOLLOWER EVENT !! (closed)

thank you everyone for the support lately! as a thank you, i’m hosting an event to write some fanfics you’d love to see come to life <3

all you have to do is send an ask/comment of an emoji from the list, a character, and the type of fic! (ex. can i have 🐚 and hinata, as a hc?) if you want something more in depth, just let me know!! and feel free to mix and match :D

prompts;

- au’s - chef 🍙 - medieval ⚔️ - gardeners 🌱 - animal shelter 🐈 - wildlife ranger 🌲 - news station 🎥 - online friends 💻 - swimmer 🌊 - surfer 🏄 - next door neighbors 🏠 - wrong number 📞 - canon 🍀 - timeskip 🌾

- quotes - ‘is there something on my face?’ ⭐️ - ‘i’m sorry.. who are you?’⚡️ - ‘please don’t tell me…’ 🪴 - ‘mmh so the weather’s nice’ ☁️ - ‘oh my gosh you can’t just say that!’ 🍓 - ‘just run away with you? just like that?’ 🥐 - ‘if i’ve ever felt anything for you, it’s been love’ 🌷 - ‘you just don’t understand!’ 🥀 - ‘so what if i love him? what do i do?’ 💐 - ‘it’s whatever, we can just forget about it’ 💌 - ‘i adore you, you know that right?’ 🌸 - ‘would you like to get coffee?’ ☕️

- one word prompts - campfire 🔥 - glasses 👓 - rooftop 🌇 - sunburn ☀️ - sports ⚽️ - toast 🍞 - sidewalk 🚗 - pancakes 🥞 - waterfall 🌊 - pets 🐕 - headphones 🎧 - fruit 🍉 - bicycle 🚲

you are not obligated to send an ask or anything!! totally cool if you’re just here to read and enjoy <3 and you’re also free to send multiple!

event masterlist;

- short-form fics - sun kissed warnings | suna rintaro - kitchen kisses | osamu miya - marker mishap | sugawara koshi - stoically in love | osamu miya - overheard love | atsumu miya - photoshoot surprise | atsumu miya - his sweet surprise | hinata shoyo - kitten photography | kenma kozume - long-form fics - sunburn soulmates | hinata shoyo - off kilter love | atsumu miya - a (crush)ed drink | hinata shoyo - world travelers | nishinoya yuu - they suit you | kageyama tobio

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[sirhamburrger]

welcome to… kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event

come one, come all to the newest café in town! d'you know what's better than the coffee and pastries they serve? the cats!! and even better than that - the wonderful owner kai who's more than happy to serve you today! || cat divider by @mewryn

the counter is currently closed.

➼ check here to see your order's progress!

number one: put in your drink order! (tropes)

➼ espresso: enemies/rivals to lovers ➼ affogato: meet-cute ➼ macchiato: meet-ugly ➼ english breakfast: exes to lovers ➼ earl grey: friends to lovers ➼ (jasmine) green tea: domestic fluff (with your little kiddos!!) ➼ peppermint tea: sickfic

and why not pick out a book from the café's mini library to go with that, if you’d like? (for a high school third-year/university setting, where applicable)

number two: your desired sugar level! (genre of fic)

➼ 100%: fluff ➼ 75%: crack ➼ 50%: hurt/comfort ➼ 0%: pure, raw angst (you sure? it’s not too late to turn back…)

number three: pick out your food item! (format)

➼ croissant: drabble/oneshot (400-800 words) ➼ cookies: headcanons (max five characters) ➼ muffin: smaushot (max three characters)

number four: secret menu items (more specific requests, or additional specifications)

craving any items that might not be on the menu? try me - i'm sure i can get that for you! any allergies? thanks, i'll take note! (i'm willing to write suggestive content, but no nsfw reqs please)

finally, who’s the lucky ducky you’re dining with today? let us know! you seem like a cute couple…

➼ specify if fem!reader or gn!reader ➼ pick a character from hq, bllk, jjk or mashle, and remember:     ➼ up to five characters for headcanons (from same fandom)     ➼ up to three characters for smau (from same fandom)

but before you put a name down, please see…

the wall of shame: banned customers (sorry i just don’t like some of them :(((( )

➼ eita otoya (had a messy breakup over a cheating incident. while kai took their order.) ➼ toji fushiguro (did the ol’ ‘dine and dash’) ➼ mei mei (i think we all know why…) ➼ ryoh grantz (used flash photography on the kitties) ➼ and any other side characters established by fandom to have little to no basis for characterisation

made your choice? order up at the counter, and another reminder to check here to see your order's progress! do be patient, and i hope you enjoy!

a message from the café owner:

the past five months on tumblr have been amazing, and i've really managed to challenge myself to create more. i cannot thank every single one of you enough for 150 followers! thank you to my lovely irls, my beloved mutuals, and my dear readers! you are what keeps me going <3 ~ xoxo kai

© sirhamburrger || [general m.list]

[jadeoru]

psst! hey! wanna see something scary?

ya know that new movie coming out soon? i heard it was based off of a true story! apparently they never solved the case… how about we try?

taglist: (open) join here!

i heard the cause of death was murder! the cops never found the culprit, but apparently the suspects were:

sakusa, akaashi, iwaizumi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, bokuto, kiyoko, kuroo, suna, gojo, geto, shoko, choso & vash the stampede!

sorry if ur fave isnt here, i probably just dont like them/dont know how to write for them!

have you discovered who the killer is? awesome! lets move on to the weapon they used!

★ . knife (smut)

★ . rubber duck (fluff)

★ . poison (angst)

★ . gun (hurt/comfort)

now that that’s out of the way, i wonder why they did it? lets figure out their motive.

★ . anger (enemies to lovers)

★ . jealousy (love triangle)

★ . love (yandere)

★ . accident (friends to lovers)

★ . framed (fake dating)

★ . insanity (forced proximity)

phew.. i think we covered everything. case closed! (unless there’s something you forgot to add?) thank you for the help!

please note: limited time only! will stop accepting requests at november 1st, 01/11.

you can request on anon, however, you are not allowed to request smut on anon. and please specify whether you want fem!reader, or gender neutral. i will not write male!reader, sorry! up to 2 requests per person!

make sure asks have at least one of each category in them! have fun requesting! 🔪

completed: 0/11

01: after hours - kiyoko shimizu.

02: close call - shoko ieri

03: like or like like? - gojo satoru

04: out for blood - sakusa kiyoomi & iwaizumi hajime

05: are they gonna fuck or fight? - akaashi keiji

06: dripping rose - suguru geto

[tsumuus]

For prompt 2 for your event, could you do that one Leah and Rob sound. "You don't hate me?" "I could never hate you." with Oikawa? tyyyyyyyyyyy

₊✩‧₊˚ toru oikawa + prompt 2 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ ‘so you don’t hate me’ ‘i could never hate you’ ˚₊✩‧₊

You had always thought you knew Toru Oikawa like the back of your hand. From the days when you first met in middle school, his charisma and infectious energy had drawn you in, and over the years, you had become inseparable. You shared laughter, tears, and countless late-night conversations. So when the sudden shift came—when he started pushing you away, his demeanor growing colder and more distant—it threw you into a whirlwind of confusion.

At first, you thought it was something you had done. Had you unknowingly said something to upset him? Or perhaps your busy schedule had pushed him to the background? The questions buzzed incessantly in your mind, but you couldn't find any answers. Each time you tried to reach out, he seemed to withdraw even further, leaving you feeling lost and adrift.

It was during one of those quiet evenings, when the moonlight streamed through your window, that you finally confronted him. You had just returned from a particularly painful day at school, your heart heavy with the weight of his cold shoulder, and the sight of him at the park, sitting alone on a bench, felt like a last straw.

"Toru," you said, your voice trembling slightly, "what's going on? Why have you been pushing me away? Did I do something wrong?"

He looked up at you, his eyes softening as if he was seeing you for the first time in weeks. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The usual charm and confidence that he wore like a second skin seemed to be stripped away, revealing a vulnerability you rarely saw.

"I've been an idiot," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling. It’s like every time I’m with you, I want to spill everything out—everything I’ve been keeping inside—but it scares me. It’s so unnatural for me."

You listened, heart aching, as he continued. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to explain it. I thought if I distanced myself, it would be easier for both of us.”

You stared at him, processing his words. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, and the moonlight cast a gentle glow on his troubled face. Slowly, you approached him and took a seat beside him on the bench, your presence offering a silent comfort.

"So you don't hate me?" you asked softly, the fear of losing him gripping your heart.

He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of relief and regret. "Hate you? I could never hate you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "The way I’ve been acting, it’s because I care so much. It’s because you mean everything to me."

The tension between you seemed to melt away with his confession. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the warmth and the sincerity in his touch. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the familiar spark of affection in them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were the problem. I’ve just been struggling with my own feelings, and I didn’t know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s okay, Toru. I just needed to know where we stood."

He nodded, his relief palpable. "Thank you for understanding. I promise I’ll work on this. I want to be better for you, and I don’t want to let my own fears ruin what we have."

The night continued with a renewed sense of closeness, the distance that had grown between you now replaced by the understanding and the warmth of a bond that had weathered the storm. As you sat there together, the moon casting its gentle light over you both, you knew that despite the struggles, you were still there for each other. And for the first time in a while, everything felt right again.

a/n RAHHHHHHH i don’t like this but here you go🙏😓

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

main masterlist

[purpleqilinwrites]

quietly.

a/n: for the pixel café network's spooktober event. if you'd like to read more, the event masterlist is here!

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: ushijima wakatoshi

genre: angst

info: zombie apocalypse au; takes place around the time-skip; established relationship (ushijima is your boyfriend / fiancé)

warnings: might not be canon-compliant; mentions of gore; mentions of injury (one of them self-inflicted); major character death

synopsis: the world ended not with a bang, but quietly, in a room with blue wallpaper.

word count: 3.5k

Ushijima Wakatoshi

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

The thought of something – or a group of someones – catching you by surprise prevented you from falling asleep, and you got up from the makeshift bed you threw together to stand guard by the smudged window again. Ushijima stirred from your abrupt movement, moving his arm to tug you back to him but only snagging a handful of air.

"They're not active when it's dark," he said, his voice still laden with sleep. You felt bad for waking him. He was the one who's been doing most of the hard labour keeping the two of you alive, and you thought that safeguarding him while he rested was the one thing you could do for him in return. You weren't much good at any of the survival things, despite being quite savvy at the games you played that simulated this exact situation you found yourself in. "Let's just sleep."

Cutting through the rotting flesh of a zombie was stupidly easy a few months prior, when all you had to do was press several buttons in quick succession. Ushijima had wondered what you found so fascinating about playing a character trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. You didn't know either. Maybe there was something about being a hero that you liked. The main character almost always won at the end, after all.

"Be back in a minute," you said, crossing your arms to ward off the late autumn chill. Ushijima left it at that, turning his head to the side where you should've been sleeping and closing his eyes.

You remained on your feet by the window for maybe half an hour after you heard him start snoring again. The only movement you detected outside was the trees bending at the waist to the strong hand of the night winds.

When the food you'd amassed was close to running out, Ushijima decided that it was time to move on from this defunct power station. With several jelly drinks and two granola bars safely stored in the fanny pack under your jacket, you followed him out of the ruined front gates once the afternoon began to wane into the evening.

It was all open terrain once you were out of the compound.

You were soothed knowing that if there was a zombie or two approaching, it would be easy to spot them since there was nowhere for them to hide. On the other hand, there was no avoiding another bloody confrontation once the zombie had been spotted.

The weight of the borrowed wrench in your hand did little to assuage your worry. It was cold against the heat of your skin. Colder than the evening breeze that whipped at your face once the stars began to wink at the pair of you from above.

You stopped Ushijima for a moment to admire them, and just for the slow count up to ten, everything was alright again.

It felt like you'd been walking for days on end when a town a little ways ahead came into view.

You exhaled your relief, your breath condensing into a misshapen mist that was quickly eaten by the breeze. "Let's hurry," Ushijima said, adjusting the straps of his backpack and then gesturing for you to keep up with him.

The house that was the first to greet you looked the way you felt, with the door missing, all its windows smashed in, and an entire chunk of the front wall lying scattered about the overgrown lawn in hunks of debris. As you approached, there was a pointed odour of decay rushing out from deeper within the house through the missing section of the wall.

You continued down the path that led to several more houses in the town instead of stopping at the first one, and all the houses in the row were alike in sight and smell. There was a much larger house at the north end of the town from where you started. Despite its less than hospitable condition, you said, "It'll have to do for now," and Ushijima acquiesced with that little wrinkle in his brow that told you he didn't want to stop there in the meantime if he could help it.

Less than two meters from what would've been the front gardens of the large house was a mostly intact concrete wall that reached only to your waist. There were several rust-coloured blotches splattered around the corners. It was arduous work putting the thought of what those dark stains could be to rest, but you managed. Across the one face of the wall was a metal plaque inscribed with a mostly faded name.

This town used to be a retirement village.

You shivered, even if you didn't feel particularly cold. Ushijima retraced his last ten or so steps and came to stand beside you when he realised you hadn't moved for a while, and his palm was warm against your bicep.

"Let's not stay here long," he said. "Just for the night."

The aluminised plastic rustled when you rubbed the packet of onsen salts between your hands. It didn't impart any warmth to you, but you still palmed at it anyway.

Ushijima looked up from taking stock of what was left of your food reserves because of the noise. "There's no running water here," he said. "You can't take a bath." A mirthless sound left your lips at his innocent reminder of your situation. It's been a few months already since the last time you took a bath. You wondered how long you'd be stewing in the medicated water if you knew beforehand that it would be your last soak for a while.

Even the ability to rinse your sweat-smeared face with clean water instead of drinking it was a luxury so far out of reach.

"I know." You spoke after a moment of silence, reading the words on the packet as if it were the first time you were seeing it. "I was hoping looking at this would make me feel better. Remind me of the days before all this."

You felt him scoot right up to you, his arms wrapping around your midsection as he leaned in to take a closer look at what you were holding. "We went there for our anniversary last year. And to celebrate my contract with the Adlers being renewed," he said, poking at the telltale logo on the upper left corner of the packet. You didn't miss how he let his touch linger on the packet of onsen salts in your hands. "I liked it too. The onsen."

For a man as stoic as Ushijima, though you knew it wasn't on purpose that he presented himself that way, that small gesture absolutely ripped your heart down the middle.

The next place you took refuge in was at a fishing port.

All the buildings along the port were repurposed shipping containers, the outer layer of paint dulled all over and peeling in some places, exposing irregular patches of rust. Ushijima stopped in front of the least damaged container and tried to open the door. When he determined that it was locked, he forcibly opened the door with his hammer and stepped in.

After a moment, he emerged from his initial scan of the shipping container's interior and beckoned for you to join him inside. "Come. It's safe for you."

Whoever owned this shipping container was a godsend.

The weariness you've been shouldering all these past few months seemed to seep out of your bones and evaporated as you hungrily took in the sight of the rows and rows of emergency food supplies and bottled water. You felt something wet trail down your chin. Swiping at your mouth with the back of your free hand, you realised then that you had been drooling. Even the wet sensation of your own spit on your face felt unfamiliar.

Ushijima was hauling the display cabinet at the other end of the container to fortify the now busted door when you came back to yourself. You began pulling where he was pushing, and the two of you made quick work of turning the display cabinet into a barricade.

Dinner was a comparatively extravagant affair now that you had options other than to have a bite of something for now or to save it for later.

You crunched on not just one but two cups of instant noodles, enjoying a forkful of canned tuna between bites of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ushijima simply watching you eat, his own dinner of canned beans in tomato sauce with a sleeve of wheat crackers sitting yet untouched in front of him.

"You want some?" You reached over with an especially hefty forkful of tuna, which he easily accepted. As he chewed, he placed a cracker loaded with beans over the mouth of one of your empty noodle cups.

"I like this," he said, and you had an inkling he wasn't referring to the food in front of him. "It's been a while since I saw you smile. It's nice."

His sentimental declaration completely disarmed you. Even with the cracker he shared with you shovelled partly into your mouth, your eyes filled up with tears that quickly began running down your face as if by the bucket. Your tears surprised him, and with your vision partially obscured by them, you saw how he almost dropped the cracker he was eating. It made you laugh, despite yourself. Despite the cracker chunks sticking uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth. Despite the reality of things outside this shipping container.

There was something boneless about how you felt – a good kind of boneless feeling, if there was such a thing – when he put his food down to hold you until you were done crying around a mouthful of beans and a broken-off corner of a cracker.

This situation with the zombies has been a reality for exactly a year and eight months since the first time you got bitten.

It was in what used to be a covered shopping street. You remembered coming here with your friends from elementary school, your wallet heavy with coins so that you could spend hours and hours playing in the arcade. For a moment, you wondered about them as you walked behind Ushijima along the ruined corner of the shopping street where that arcade should've been.

This was a place brimming with good memories from your past. It filled your mouth with an acrid, bitter taste that in your present, this place would signal the beginning of the end.

You mourned the loss of two fingers from your left hand, your little finger and your ring finger that you had to cleave off if you wanted to avoid transforming into a zombie. For months and months after the fact, you suffered from irregular bouts of a phantom pain that was real enough to seize you from your sleep, and you were always left kicking and screaming until it passed.

Sometimes, when your mind cleared and you became aware that the wound had already healed into an uneven mass of a scar, you found yourself grieving also that if this zombie situation were ever resolved, you'd never wear a wedding ring where it was supposed to be worn.

After a particularly nasty run-in with a group of other survivors, the two of you collectively agreed to remain on your own. You wanted to ask "Until when?" but the words evaded you when you noticed that the clench in Ushijima's jaw had become a permanent fixture of his face. His natural expression was never angry, before all this.

The remains of Shiratorizawa Academy loomed over the residential and semi-commercial buildings that surrounded it, casting a shadow even in the late hour.

At first, you thought he wanted to stay there for the time being, and so you followed at the usual two paces behind him. Ushijima stopped without warning in his approach, and you rammed into his back. The sight of your shared alma mater cast a spell on him, and he paid no mind to you as you stumbled and latched onto his elbow to right yourself.

The last time he'd held you, the angles of his bones didn't jut out this much.

"I wanted us to get married here," he said, turning around to face you. You had expected him to say something about volleyball instead. Something about the way his palm tingled pleasantly after he spiked the ball. Something about Satori-kun and the other Shiratorizawa boys he used to play here with. After all, he loved the sport before he loved you. You never once thought to equate these two loves of his. Even so—

There was that pinprick of warmth at the back of your eyes that warned of the tears to come, but that was the end of it. Maybe you were too dehydrated to retain the ability to cry. You blinked, as if to prevent a tide of nonexistent tears from falling.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a low growl from within the abandoned Shiratorizawa compound made him close it.

There was a part of you that was too tired to run. You've already spent more than two years – or more? Had it been three years already? Five? More? – running and hiding and starving. When was the last time you were happy that you were still alive?

Ushijima appeared to be able to hear the words on the tip of your tongue that you haven't yet said, and he made the decision for you. As a swarm of zombies materialised from the twisted shadows of Shiratorizawa, he grabbed your forearm and yanked you after him.

The two of you narrowly missed the most nimble zombie in the horde. The one who relentlessly chased after you on all fours with a good portion of his face and most of his right arm missing.

It was in another school when you got bitten again.

This time, there were no memories attached to the place. Neither of you went to school here. It was too far north of Sendai where the two of you met. You took it as a small consolation, no matter that it was insignificant, that nothing in your past was sullied by this thing that happened in your present.

You poured an entire travel-sized vodka bottle onto the wound once you managed to duck into an underground shelter a good distance away from the school. Dipping your hand into your fanny pack left you disappointed; you had nothing else to clean the site of your injury with.

The wound festered unnaturally, darkening into the sickly purple-grey of a bruised plum beginning to mould. Even the flies that gathered around the corpses of people who died a natural death avoided the parasitic rot making its home in your body.

It occurred to you that you might need to self-mutilate once again, for the sake of survival. You brandished the one clean knife in your possession before you processed the thought, aligning the cutting edge with the curve of your lowermost rib on the right side. The exposed portion of bone, off-white from the poor nutrition of the recent years and mostly smooth when the bite was still fresh, had succumbed to the thing that was going to kill you.

If you didn't do this now—

Ushijima caught you with the pocket knife within its sheath, but still tightly enmeshed in the meeting of your two hands. There was a pleading look in his eyes that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You couldn't bear to maintain eye contact for longer than a second, turning your cheek to him instead.

"Toshi, please," you said, and pushing those two words past your lips drained you. "I don't want to turn into a zombie. Let me do this, please. Please–"

If you didn't do this now, you'd have to ask him—

The last clinic the two of you stumbled upon was devoid of anything useful. All that met you within the shattered glass walls were the lifeless bodies of what looked to have been at least two groups of survivors fighting over the last of some medical supplies. You checked a can of disinfectant spray lying by the severed leg of the least decomposed corpse, and the way it rattled when you picked it up told you it had been empty for a while.

"We've already been through so much. We'll get through this too," he said, prying the knife from your trembling hands. You were prepared for the physical pain of what needed to be done, but there was nothing you could do to steel yourself against the cruel knowledge that you had to leave Ushijima behind soon.

"I can't– Do this anymore," you said. "It hurts. Everything– Everything hurts."

His eyes were watchful while you lay shivering and sweaty and grey on the stained mattress. You were bundled up in an assortment of clothes Ushijima had collected from the other apartments in this building. It was the heat of summer, clammy and thick, but it felt like winter to you.

You gathered the strength to wave your hand at him to properly get his attention, but your efforts fell short, your forearm rising only to flop back where it came from. The closest you came to swearing was a broken, wispy groan.

He was looking at you, but not seeing you. It was the same way you were looking at him, and all you could focus on was the repetitive floral motif on the pretty blue wallpaper behind him.

"–Toshi," you managed. It took maybe five or six seconds for him to register that you had spoken. Once it did, he rose from his seated position on the floor close to the mattress to kneel beside where you lay.

You mustered all the strength you had left in your quickly rotting body to nod to him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't summon the words to your lips and push them out so he could hear you. So that he knew that this was it. That it was time for you to go, and he had to let you go. All you managed was a singular decisive nod.

It felt like a moment that should've been tearful. This was goodbye, after all.

These few – or maybe more than a few – years you survived because of him. You never knew how much it cost him because he never let you apologise for being one more thing for him to take care of. Ushijima only accepted your feelings when you said, "Thank you" and "I love you" and "I appreciate you".

You gave a strained nod that sapped what remained alive in you, and he nodded back with his mouth flattened into a solemn line.

He leaned forward to press his lips to yours one last time. In the blurred vision of your one good eye, it looked like he was about to cry as his face drew nearer to yours. Since you couldn't bring your arms around him, you settled for two dull taps of your index finger onto the plush surface of the mattress and hoped he understood. Did he even see it?

You wanted to ask him not to cry while you could still be aware of it, but you've already asked too much of him.

He stood up, leaving your narrow field of vision for a moment. When he came back into view, the pocket knife you'd been using as your weapon of choice was in his dominant hand, the deep green of the weathered handle standing out against the colour of his skin.

Ushijima leaned over you, shivering and sweaty and grey.

His right hand passed over your face, and he mapped out the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the slant of your nose, the shape of your eyes. The calloused pads of his fingers were gentle as he shut your eyes for you.

"I don't want this," he admitted, nestling his cheek against your forehead. His voice was close to your ear, and you could hear the fissures in it worsening as he spoke. "Not when I was ready to die before you."

The cool of your grey flesh greedily soaked up the warmth of his body when he lifted your upper body to cradle you to his chest, safe in his arms as you've always been. You wanted to snuggle into the crook of his neck one more time before it was time for you to go, but there was no more energy left in you. Your life had run out, and it was time—

"I love you," was the last thing you heard but not the last thing you felt.

[naofairy]

Some kagehina thoughts/headcanons

- Hinata gets a boyfriend in Brazil, his private instagram account is filled with pictures of him.

- The guy is openly gay, almost an icon in Sao Paulo’s queer scene. He introduces Hinata to the culture, guides him through the experience.

- One time Hinata posts a story on his ig, the pic is taken in some club if the dim light and neons are any sign. His boyfriend’s chest takes up the majority of the frame, it’s almost bare, only black straps of a leather harness on it. He’s ripped, surely works out a lot, Kageyama notices. He can’t help but stare at Hinata’s hand resting on the guy’s peck, Shouyou’s tan just a tad lighter. Something ugly stirs in Tobio’s stomach. The guy’s hand is caught reaching for Hinata’s - it’s definitely bigger, his fingers longer. Kageyama wonders how his own hand compares but it’s been so long that even Hinata’s hand isn’t a reliable reference anymore.

- Kageyama catches them together one time when he videocalls Hinata. It’s the only time that he actually hears their conversations. The guy seems very open, surely an extrovert. He laughs and smiles a lot at Shouyou, his expressivess feels like a hundred needles pushed into Tobio’s skin. They seem like a good couple, Hinata looks happy.

- They break up once Hinata goes back to Japan. Apparently the guy can’t do long distance, he’s not like any of Hinata’s friends. He needs physicality, touch, shared intimacy. He says he knows how shitty it sounds, but he has to take care of his own needs and doesn’t want to resent Hinata for not fullfiling them. He wants to remember them happy. Some part of Shouyou wishes he was more mad with his ex.

[animeolympics2024]

PROMPT REVEAL!

Join us in celebrating sports anime with the 2024 Summer Olympics! Thank you to everyone who contributed to a successful interest check. We have put together the prompts with your suggestions in mind. We're so excited to see what you all create!

The week opens with the Olympics on July 26, and ends a week later on August 1. For more information, check out our updated FAQ. If you have any further questions or concerns, feel free to send an ask to this account!

Written version of the prompts are listed under the cut (image description in its entirety is in the alt text).

7/26/24

Opening Ceremony

Reunions

Rise by Katy Perry

7/27/24

Winners/Losers

Paris & Eiffel Tower

To Paris With Love by Donna Summer

7/28/24

Game Watch Party

Different sport AU

Immortals by Fall Out Boy

7/29/24

Rivalries

Cardboard Beds

Could Have Been Me by The Struts

7/30/24

Post-Match Interviews

Sponsorships

Long Live by Taylor Swift

7/31/24

Injuries

Training

Gilded Lily by The Cults

8/01/24

Relationship Reveal

Gold Medal Match

Hall of Fame by The Script

[flyingwargle]

miya twins week day 2: "why does it feel like we’re drifting apart?”

granny used to say that twin telepathy was a gift from the gods as a way to reaffirm their bond. it can be used for anything between the mundane to the serious, from asking each other answers on their tests, soothing nightmares, echoing sentiments. it can work across long distances, although they never tried it, or close proximities. the only time it fails is when the bond starts to weaken.

or so osamu thinks.

it starts in their second year of high school, from their argument about their diverging paths. “if yer so damn sure that ya’ll be the happier one,” he snarls, gripping his brother’s collar, “come back when we’re geezers! wait ‘till then ta laugh in my face an’ say ya were happier!”

atsumu stares at him, anger in his eyes. “if that’s what ya wanna do, yer on.” he shoots to his feet, gripping his shoulders tight. “i’m gonna turn an’ look right in yer face, an’ say i had the happier life!”

they never recovered after that. after graduation, osamu went to university in tokyo; atsumu was scouted by the jackals in osaka. he sent a ticket to his debut match, but osamu had an exam and couldn’t attend. osamu sent an invite to his graduation, but atsumu was overseas. atsumu sent a ticket to a game between the jackals and ejp, but osamu was busy preparing for his restaurant’s grand opening. when the doors opened for the first time, he saved a spot for atsumu, but he never made it.

he doesn’t notice when the telepathy stopped. he doesn’t notice when the messages between him and his brother gradually stop. so, when he hears his name echo in the back of his mind during the busiest hour of the day, he doesn’t question it and simply responds back.

‘samu.

it’s faint. osamu, in the middle of preparing rice, slows. ‘tsumu. he’s the only one in the kitchen, the rest of his staff busy with front of house. his eyes dart around the industrial equipment, the window cracked open, the fans whirring.

oh. a weak chuckle. it still works, huh?

whaddaya mean? osamu frowns.

he doesn’t get an immediate response. when he does, it’s fainter. onigiri miya, huh? it’s a nice name.

osamu was never the best at listening for emotions, but it’s different with telepathy. it’s just them, stripped of their external bodies, left with their inner mind’s voice. atsumu’s is mournful. regretful. apologetic.

‘tsumu, what’s wrong?

it’s that chuckle again, the self-conscious one that starts at the back of his throat, accompanied by a sheepish smile. osamu can imagine it, hear it echo from their childhood, adolescence, to now. sorry that i never came fer the grand openin’. it woulda been cool. i saw the pictures. business is boomin’, huh?

cut the shit, ‘tsumu. osamu has stopped, hands braced on the counter. why’re ya talkin’ ta me? we haven’t talked in years. they don’t follow each other on social media. they haven’t texted since high school. they haven’t called even longer. why, when you have telepathy?

telepathy. used for anything from the mundane to the serious. osamu’s blood runs cold. ‘tsumu, tell me where ya are, right now.

there’s no way ya can make it ta osaka.

watch. osamu is storming out of the kitchen and into his office, ripping his apron off, throwing his hat on top of his laptop. where are ya?

pause. i didn’t believe granny when she said twins could talk ta each other with their minds, thought it was some folktale. but when i heard ya cryin’ fer me after those bullies hit ya, i believed it. we promised each other that we’d be there, right? i completely forgot, an’ i gave ya so much shit fer wantin’ ta follow yer dreams. i’m sorry.

don’t do this ta me, ‘tsumu. osamu is checking shinkansen departures. i’m bookin’ a ticket, i’ll be there soon, don’t ya dare go dark–

i wish i coulda visited once.

he freezes. a chill runs down his spine, feels something in his mind suddenly sink into the darkness. ‘tsumu? ‘tsumu, answer me. ‘tsumu! his phone falls from his hand, vision blurring. ‘tsumu, don’t do this ta me. don’t leave me. ‘tsumu?

don’t leave before i can say sorry.

--

he learns, later that night, that atsumu was in a hit-and-run. a cyclist witnessed it and called for an ambulance. he was barely conscious by the time it arrived, drifted off before reaching the hospital. the surgery went through the night. the doctors aren't sure when he'd wake.

osamu takes the first shinkansen to osaka. when he reaches the hospital, he crashes into his ma’s waiting arms, sobbing into her shoulder. “i’m sorry,” he sobs. “he- ‘tsumu, we talked, but he didn’t- he-“

she shushes him. “baby, it’s okay. yer here, an’ that’s all that matters. shall we see him?”

atsumu’s head is wrapped in bandages, with plenty more around his limbs, hidden beneath his blanket. an iv is inserted in his vein, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. his expression is gaunt, but his heartbeat is steady. osamu reaches for his hand, the uninjured one, and grasps it between his. “how did we drift so far apart?” he whispers.

ma sits beside him. “he never stopped talkin’ ‘bout ya, whenever he visited. he was even talkin’ ‘bout makin’ a trip ta tokyo ta surprise ya, but…” her breath catches in her throat. “i’m sure he’d love ta have yer food.”

“he can have all the onigiri he wants,” osamu croaks. “every last bit o’ it.”

they stay, take turns stretching their legs, taking calls from friends and family, eating out of the vending machine in the main lobby. the black jackals visit, along with old friends from inarizaki. when night falls, his ma leaves to sleep at the hotel, but osamu stays. he doesn’t let go of atsumu’s hand, not even as he drifts off.

‘samu?

he startles awake, but he doesn't have the strength to open his eyes. ‘tsumu. listen, i’m so sorry–

i’m sorry that i made ya come all the way here. i woulda liked ta show ya the sights, sneak ya into the gym, make ya hit my tosses.

ya idiot. ya can still do all that. yer gonna be fine. i know ya will. osamu squeezes his hand. an’ yer gonna come ta tokyo, an’ we’ll do all the tourist shit ya like. yer gonna eat at my restaurant an’ sleep on my couch, an’ complain ‘bout yer back the next mornin’, an’ we’re gonna do it all again–

a faint laugh. not that self-conscious chuckle, but the quiet, exasperated yet amused laugh that comes when he doesn’t want to acknowledge his brother, yet still does. i’m still sorry ‘bout what i said back in high school.

we’re adults, now. it doesn’t matter. we’ll start again. right?

right.

osamu dares to open his eyes, and stares straight at his brother, who returns his gaze. his lips move beneath his oxygen mask, though no words come out. he hears him, loud and clear.

love ya, idiot.

love ya too, scrub.

--

inspiration: this comic of twin telepathy!

[stellar-haikyuu]

THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT STELLAR'S STATIONERY (CLOSED)

Hi, everyone! I just finished my pediatric rotation. In celebration, I will write 12 fics about the Karasuno members!

These are all x reader fics, ranging from ~0.5 to 1.5k words. I also hope to write more fics with happy endings, hence the chosen styles/prompts/tropes.

This event will close once all 12 slots have been taken! (12/12 taken as of Dec 30)

Step 1: Pick your writing instruments. Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these styles! You can pick more than one if you wish.

Pencils - hurt/comfort Pens - fluff Markers - silly/crack

Step 2: Choose some coloring materials. Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these tropes! Please specify if you want a romantic/platonic relationship.

Crayons - enemies to friends/lovers Colored Pencils - childhood friends (to lovers) Colored Markers - mutual friends (to best friends/lovers) Glitter Glue - best friends (to lovers) Highlighter - strangers to friends/lovers Oil Pastels - platonic/romantic soulmates Watercolor - accidental friends/lovers

Step 3: Other supplies you'd like to add? Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these prompts! You can pick more than one if you wish.

Tape - forced proximity Stapler - giving each other support Glue - first kiss Sticky Tack - first meeting Paperclip - fake relationship Ruler - mutual pining Index Card - learning something new about the other Stamp - making promises Yarn - date/hangout Sticker Set - making something their own Rubber Band - unexpected reunion Magnets - opposites attract Sticky Note - taking care of a sick character Pad Paper - going on errands together  Eraser - comfort after a long day Correction Tape - making up after a fight Scissors - misunderstandings/miscommunication

Step 4: Who are you gifting this to? Pick the name of the Karasuno member you'd like to give this stationery bundle to. We'll write it on a card. (Taken names will be crossed out):

Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Kiyoko

Step 5: Head on to the cashier! Double-check your basket! If there's something you want that we don't have in stock, let us know! (Feel free to add other customizations to your request that aren't listed here, such as quotes, more specific scenarios, etc.)

Once you're all good, go place your order here. You may choose to remain anonymous, if you wish. Track the progress of your request down below!

📒 Some reminders and notes!

Feel free to message me/send an ask if you have any questions or clarifications.

There's no specific format for requesting! But for convenience, you can group the chosen stationery items at the start and leave a longer explanation at the bottom.

By default, I will be writing in the second person, with a gender-neutral reader. Please specify if you'd like any modifications to these.

You can specify if you’d like a timeskip!scenario too. Otherwise, I’m assuming we’re going the high school route.

Please understand that I am in my senior year and undergoing clinical internship. I only get to write in my free time, and I mainly do this for my mental health and enjoyment!

I reserve the right to decline writing requests that are uncomfortable to write. I am open to modifications, if ever.

📝 Event Masterlist:

☆ 01: No Regrets (Sugawara Koushi) ☆ 02: Word of the Day (Kageyama Tobio) ☆ 03: ☆ 04: ☆ 05: ☆ 06: ☆ 07: ☆ 08: ☆ 09: ☆ 10: ☆ 11: ☆ 12:

✍🏼 Progress:

Request Received: ☆ Tsukishima (pens, highlighter, sticky tack) ☆ Ennoshita (pens, colored pencils, glue) ☆ Hinata (pencils, glue, magnets, ruler) ☆ Tanaka (pens, colored markers, magnets, scissors, ruler) ☆ Yachi ☆ Daichi Currently Writing: ☆ Nishinoya (markers, watercolor, magnets, sticky tack) ☆ Yamaguchi (pens, markers, highlighter, index card) ☆ Kiyoko (pencils, glitter glue, stamp, scissors)

stellar's masterlist

[afyrian]

my plus one atsumu miya x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 871 | prompts: fake dating

    "just act natural!"

  "anyone acting natural wouldn't be dating you-"

  "okay, could you just shut up then?" you question, arm wrapped around atsumu's, a fake smile gracing your face. 

  the two of you enter your cousin's wedding reception, the old italian atmosphere garnering a romantic feeling... if you were with anyone other than atsumu miya. the inside of your elbow interlocks with his arm, hand resting in front of your ensemble. "you are the one who invited me, remember?" he whispers into your ear, keeping an obnoxious smile on his face. 

  "only because you were the only one in town after the tournament," you whisper back, giving your other cousins a wave, trying to hold your smile. 

  he turns to look at you, stopping you in your tracks. his eyes are wide as his hand rests below your elbow, fingers grazing your upper arm. biting his lip, the tips of his shoes touching yours, “you’re such a charmer.. now if you really want to convince them, you’ll let me wrap my arm around your waist.”

  “taking this boyfriend role a little seriously, aren’t you?” you question, narrowing your eyes, hands reaching up to his biceps. 

  atsumu shrugs, raising his right hand to push back pieces of your hair. “only as much as you are sweetheart,” he looks past you and at your cousins, the bride included.

  they’re standing together in a group, chowing down on hors d’oeuvres featuring classic italian flavors. the maid of honor leans against the table, eyes wide open as she spots the two of you together. inciting a domino effect, she alerts the rest of the bridal party to your presence, making note of the man attached to your hip.

  atsumu smirks to himself as you roll your eyes. trying to play it up, his hand moves smoothly from your elbow to your back, pushing you slightly towards him. “now, your cousins are watching, you want to go say hi?” he smiles, raising his eyebrows, reveling in the acting performance of a lifetime. 

  “oh i would love to hon,” you tilt your head, tapping his chest with your hand before turning around to meet your fate.

  atsumu’s hand stays on your back, lowering only slightly to reach your waist. the rest of the reception runs smoothly, people dancing on the floor, the groom talking to a few of his friends. walking up to your cousin, you hold out your hands, moving into a hug, “alisa! i have to say, your wedding was beautiful. and this reception? i’m so happy i was able to come.”

  “i’m so happy you could too y/n! god i haven’t seen you in forever, and especially not since you’ve gotten with your boyfriend… who is??” she sets down her plate onto the table, hands clasped together with an excited smile on her face. 

  “atsumu miya, you might’ve seen me, i’m on japan’s national volleyball team. that’s actually how we met, right babe?” he squeezes you into his side, making sure your family can see just how ‘in love’ he is. 

  looking up at him, you purse your lips, sighing. “yes, i remember like it was yesterday. i was doing some paperwork for their team, and i ended up having to stay late. when someone,” you look up at him, a soft smile on your lips, “brought in some food, and offered it up. although, it wasn’t the perfect meet cute. he ended up spilling chili oil all over me.”

  “to be fair, you were trying to take some of my food and i was just protecting it-”

  “you had way more food than i did, besides, i know for a fact that the meal planner didn’t want you eating any of that because of the upcoming games,” you lean back, shaking your head.

  the bridal party watches with amusement as you bicker, already acting like an old married couple. reaching her hand out, you grab ahold of alisa’s hand, giving her a soft smile, “okay okay, atsumu, would you mind getting us a few drinks so i could talk to my cousin?”

  nodding his head, he lifts his hands up, “yes, i can definitely get those for you. i’m assuming from the punch table. have fun babe.”

  watching as he walks away, alisa immediately starts badgering you for more information. your first thoughts of him, how long you’ve been together, whether you’ve gone to any of games as his ‘girlfriend’ yet. the question that stood out to you the most is when she asks ‘do you love him?’. 

  “love him? i don’t know, maybe? i mean he annoys the living hell out of me. and i probably won’t tell him this, at least not till we’re dating longer, but i do think i care about him. in our own way, you know?” you shrug, rubbing your thumb against her hand, “but enough about me, how’s it feel to be married to the love of your life?”

  atsumu peeks over at the two of you, holding a few glasses on a tray he was able to steal from catering. listening to the sweet sounds of you figuring out that maybe you don’t actually hate atsumu for the night he ruined your favorite sweater… 

a/n: thank you so much for requesting @thestorytellercattie !! i hope you like it

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

[gladiatorcunt]

I CAN GIVE IT ALL TO YOU BABY... a gladiatorcunt production 𖤐 18+ MDNI 𖤐 will include nsfw & dead dove/dark content 𖤐 come celebrate with likeminded cult members individuals 𖤐 XIV (14) nights only! 𖤐 BYOCD (bring your own ceremonial dagger) 𖤐 free kiss on the forehead at the stone door! xxx ...CAN YOU GIVE IT ALL TO ME?⋆｡ﾟ

- MIZUMONO +

🥩 - off anon moodboard based on ur blog and vibes

❤️‍🔥 - astrology matchup

🏰 - send your fictional or celebrity crushes and i’ll put them on a tier list (or send 3 for a FMK)

- WON'T YOU BAPTIZE MY MIND JUST ONE MORE TIME?

🦇 - send me a character(s) + trope/au/kink(s) for a nsfw (dead dove or not) drabble

🪦 - send me a character(s) + specifically a horror or monsterfucker trope/au(s) for a nsfw (dead dove or not) drabble

- DRACULA DAILY!

bonus:

🥀 - to hear my opinion on something, want to be mutuals/you’re already a mutual and want to get closer, ask me for advice, or to just to chat about smth!

reminder to check my pinned for rules & that i’m taking commissions!

[sirhamburrger]

kai’s cat café! - order incoming! 150 followers event || café menu here!

as of 5 jan:

orders completed:

➼ peppermint tea (50% sugar) w/cookies (r. suna x f!reader) ➼ peppermint tea (100% sugar) w/croissant (s. ieiri x reader) ➼ earl grey (100% sugar) w/croissant (r. itoshi x reader) ➼ espresso (75% sugar) w/muffin (s. barou x reader)

orders in progress:

➼ earl grey (30% sugar) w/croissant (choso x reader) ➼ english breakfast (75% sugar) w/croissant (m. kaiser x reader)

orders received:

➼ off-menu item!! (mashle) ➼ espresso (0% sugar)(brave) w/croissant (m. kaiser x reader) ➼ jasmine green tea (75% sugar) w/croissant (r. itoshi x f!reader) ➼ espresso (50% sugar) w/cookies (multi x gn!reader) ➼ earl grey (100% sugar) w/croissant (h. iwaizumi x f!reader) ➼ earl grey (50% sugar) w/croissant, custom order (w. ushijima x f!reader) ➼ earl grey (75% sugar) w/croissant, (t. kuroo x f!reader) ➼ english breakfast (50% sugar) w/croissant, (s. itoshi x reader) ➼ affogato (75% sugar) w/croissant, (s.rintaro x f.reader) ➼ green tea (100% sugar) w/muffin, (multi x reader)

taglist: (open, reply to this post to be added)

© sirhamburrger || [general m.list] || divider by @mewryn

[lovelynim]

Hello Fabi my sweetheart, I'm here to congratulate you on the 1000 milestone AND ALSO be very greedy and use this opportunity to request Lee!Oikawa and Ler!Reader with navel as the spot

é isso ai, um grande beijo e meus parabéns 😱🥳💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

PPY!!!!

Vou escrever em PTBR mesmo e que se exploda. Muito obrigada pelo apoio!! A gente se conheceu (começou a interagir na vdd) faz pouco tempo, mas te considero pacas.

De qualquer forma, espero que goste desse meu gesto de gratidão por tudo que você fez por mim recentemente. Hah.

“T-tira a mahahão daí!! AHahAHah, eu tô fahahalando séheherio!” Oikawa riu, agarrando seus pulsos com toda a força que restava nos braços - que já não era muita, para o azar dele e sorte sua. 

Você sorriu contra a pele da nuca dele, fazendo um arrepio se espalhar pelo corpo dele. “Tá mesmo? Rindo assim, nem parece… será que você não consegue ser um pouquinho mais convincente?” Você sussurrou, uma de suas mãos segurando a camiseta dele fora do seu caminho enquanto a outra atacava a barriga dele com cócegas, seus dedos gentilmente circulando o umbigo dele, arranhando de leve os poucos músculos que ele tinha no abdómen e cutucando pontos onde a carne era mais macia.

“P-pohohohor fahahavor!! AHahahAh, i-isso fahahaz cócegahahas!!” Oikawa choramingou entre risos, se debatendo no seu abraço, tentando encontrar uma saída, uma maneira de fazer com que o seu toque fosse menos efetivo - mas todas as tentativas sem sucesso. Você sabia que tinham só mais alguns minutos antes do intervalo acabar, então era melhor ter certeza que cada um deles seria muito bem aproveitado.

[mcytblrconfessions-but-badder]

i think i can speak for pretty much all authors, that everything we write we put at least a little effort into. I get my friends to beta for me even tho im extremely embarrassed, it means that much to me to have perfect grammar! I spell check a million times, I check my email all the time for kudos and comments, i keep my projects under wraps so that i wont get unmotivated, etc. hell, i even read a fic where the author wrote in their native language and then later translated before posting!! Even if we wrote it passed out drunk at least drunk author brain said “oooh lookie!! Write write” no fic gets formulated without effort. I just want you to know that we all take the effort, even if it might not seem like it to you.

.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Thank You, Haikyuu

Event Announcement - Haikyuu AU Week

gooood evening friends, I have something fun for you

in honour of the haikyuu movie and all the haikyuu hype lately AND as a lil olympic send off, I'm gonna do a full week of seven looong haikyuu fics - all seven of them will be different pairings and set in different AUs

sooo if that's something you're interested in, I'll tease some stuff this week about the pairings and fics, and then on sunday evening at 8pm, the event will officially (finally) begin