#lwk i hate this

[osamiiya]

AITA- Miya Atsumu x Reader

Summary: Am I the asshole for falling in love with my volleyball team manager? They’re also my childhood friend and I accidentally ran away from them after kissing them after we won the finals…

Atsumu kisses his team manager on accident (he’s in love with them) and turns to reddit for help.

Rating: Teen (For language!)

Warnings: Language!!

Notes: Mainly from Atsumu POV, lmk if we ever want the reader’s POV, no pronouns or gender identifying characters used in regards to the reader! The ending is rushed idk where I was going with this.

A/n: Hi it’s been a while i’m in college now and recently rewatched haikyuu so expect things (possibly) from me this summer

Atsumu’s fingers hover above his phone keypad, glaring down at the blinking text cursor staring back up at him. He gnaws on his lip slightly, feeling the salty sweat from the days activities on his tongue.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He got caught up in the moment! It could happen to anyone, really!

One thing you know, you’re watching the ball hit the floor on the other side of the net. Heart pumping and ears ringing from the adrenaline and excitement of the successful setter dump. The poor, distraught faces staring up at him from across the net.

Atsumu promises he’s not a psychopath.

If anything, it was the cheers that erupted from the crowd, boosting his confidence and grinding his decision making skills lower than they already are (according to ‘Samu).

Heart pumping, his head whipped to the side, tunnel visioning on your bright smile from the sidelines. In fact, his feet moved without his consent, pulled by some invisible force dragging him to you.

Next thing he knows, he’s gathering your face in his hands, gently, a complete contradiction to the wild, vibrant, exhilarating emotions working their way through his body.

Atsumu’s eyes met yours, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, then he was leaning in, then his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to yours.

He doesn’t even know if you closed your eyes.

And the kiss was… not like what he wanted his first kiss with you to be.

Sure, there were fireworks, and he’s been dreaming of this moment for years and years. And Atsumu thinks he could die in the next five minutes and die without any regrets. Then his eyes snap open, as realization pours over him like a bucket of ice water. Thinking about it now, Atsumu thinks the realization is more abrupt. Like a slap to the face, or like the time Osamu ripped his bandaid off his leg.

Within the mere seconds of eye contact and lip contact, Atsumu has four different realizations:

1. His mother was in the stands, watching her son kiss the kid she remembers from her sons’ childhood, always knocking on their door asking if “‘Tsumu and ‘Samu wanted to pass the volleyball around with them.

2. His team was probably watching him kiss their team manager. He would get an earful from Kita no matter what, and he would probably disappear in mysterious and ominous ways if they quit the manager position because of this.

3. He was sweaty. Almost obnoxiously so. The hands cupping your face? Disgusting. They were on the floor, touching the volleyball, slick with sweat, and somehow dry all at once. His face? Sweaty. His hair? Probably all messed up from sweat.

The fourth and final realization is arguably the most important:

4. The two of you were not dating. In fact, you had no idea of these feelings he had been harboring for you. And by kissing you, not only had he revealed these feelings, but possibly, completely ruined the almost 10 year friendship between the two of you.

All of these realizations poured over Atsumu like a bucket of ice water.

He pulls away from you, like he had been burned by the slight pressure on his lips. He stares at you for a moment, barely registering the commotion around the two of you.

And he bolts.

Atsumu realizes that he doesn’t care about going to nationals anymore, and instead only cares about getting to the furthest location from Gymnasium 1. His legs, of course, also do not care that he played five sets, and carry him all the way to his backpack, tucked in some stairway with everyone else’s gear, and into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind him.

He mutters a few curse words as he locks the door, staring at the empty row of stalls in front of him.

“I’m going to live out my life and die in this bathroom.” He groans out, burying his face in his (disgusting) hands.

He fishes his phone out of his backpack. He goes through a mental checklist of the people he knows and is willing to ask for advice about.

Atsumu draws a blank.

‘The internet will know.’ Atsumu thinks. It would be better for random strangers to counsel him.

He starts typing.

“Am I the asshole for running away from someone after kissing them?”

Atsumu thinks he’s an asshole, but maybe the internet sees the situation differently.

“I (17M) am in love with my high school volleyball team manager. We‘re childhood friends, and I remember loving them as love as I remember how the sun feels on my skin. This year we won all of our matches and quality to advance to spring nationals.

The last match we won had everyone really hyped. In the midst of the excitement, I kissed my manager. In front of everyone. And then I ran. Because I’m scared.

I’m currently hiding in the bathroom, because I don’t know what else to do, and I suppose my excitement got the best of me, but i’m not sure I can continue daily life knowing what the pressure of their lips against mine was. I want to confess but If it goes wrong, everything in my life gets impacted.

Did I ruin any chance at anything by running? It was kind of a dick move.

Thoughts?”

He posts it.

A minute later his phone lights up with a notification informing him of a response. Several responses.

“Yes, you’re an asshole. People need to use this bathroom.”

“It was mad funny”

“Please come out so we can talk.”

A cold sweat forms on his neck when he realizes it was his personal account he posted from. Rookie mistake.

If he does die, Atsumu would rather be in the doorway of the bathroom, rather than surrounded but the smells of different bodily…things.

He opens the door, smiling at you sheepishly.

“Hey, what brings you here?”

Your smile doesn’t reach your lips, and Atsumu sweats.

“Have something to say?” Your voice only serves to speed up the heart palpitations in his chest. Atsumu is even sure that if you were looking at his eyes, you would see them dilate in affection.

He’s making a noise, he realizes. Staring dumbly at your lips, an “um” sound occupying the space as he tries to gather his words and not think about how soft your lips were, or how he could basically taste the smile on your lips.

“I like you… and not in the way I should. I’ve been in love with you forever, and ‘Samu’s always on my case about it and I really don’t know what to do about it and you looked so pretty smiling there after we won and I dunno I just-“

Your lips are on his again, interrupting the word vomit spilling from his lips.

He melts, and his hands come up to grip your waist as his eyes flutter closed and he leans into the kiss.

And suddenly the pressure is gone, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you mumble against his lips, before dashing down the hall.

“I like you too.”

Atsumu’s quick to follow, feeling the burn of overworked muscle in his thighs, and listening to the sound of your laugh echo down the hall.

He guesses he’s not as big of an asshole as he thought.

[nightleebear]

Secret Rendezvous

I couldn’t bring myself to finish this so just take it alright

[ic3dior]

wait you guys, we know ice canonically has glasses in tgm right. What if when he first was told he needed them to read/see or whatever he was embarrassed so got the prescription in his aviators instead because he always wore those anyway - so nobody would suspect a thing. It wasn’t until maverick (or one of the flyboys) accidentally picked up the wrong aviators and found out ice’s had a prescription in that anybody found out he needed them. They then proceeded to tell ice he was being stupid for not getting regular frames but ice didn’t cave until he was promoted to Rear Admiral and out of the sky and got fed up of trying to read paperwork with sunglasses on while indoors in dim lighting 24/7. Then because he’s self conscious he didn’t let anybody see him wearing them for ages until the group let themselves into his office since they hadn’t seen ice in a while and ice was fast asleep on the keyboard of his computer: having passed out from exhaustion.

[circusmilkk]

coloured doodle

[tokillamockingbird427]

Unironically need to write Rorke and Ramos having sexual tension. Remake requirement?

[i-ran-into-a-lampost]

Please watch mebius

[grim333z]

begging for anything angsty with carl

(ngl, fics where reader is shane's son are so underrated.)

Fairytale~

Carl x Shane's son!reader

{this is set after the farm, but its kinda implied that Carl and reader aren't like 12... iykwim}

Tw: angst.

"And the words always get in the way It cuts you down just the same I can't wait to see what you find And the sun will find its place to shine, "

The group had become uneasy since the farm fell... With the days growing shorter and the nights getting colder, there really was nothing more to do than wait out the winter.

the Grimes had become especially cold towards you, the knowing of what your father did never leaving their minds, constantly looming over you. It hurt because you'd become close to Carl over your time with the group, you'd known him since before, being the same age and having parents who were freinds ment you'd seen him here and there on occasion but he'd never really tried to spark anything up.

You'd just caught what he'd done-

Shane had turned he really couldn't have done anything else, but to you, he'd killed your father. He hadn't said anything to you since...

You found yourself sitting away from the main group when small camps would be set up, typically not far away from daryl. Suddenly, knowing what it felt like to be an outsider...

It was usually him who brought you food, checked in on you...spoke to you. He knew what it was like too live in a family members shadow.

The group had settled in a small housing estate, a large broken gate at the front, with a hefty rusting archway reading "Wiltshire estate." The place was pretty beaten up. Most homes had a busted window or broken down front door. Each house is pretty much looted. The odd missed can or packet here or there.

The group had decided to take refuge in the least beaten up home, boarding the front door shut. Most people had split off into different rooms. The grimes took the master bedroom, Carol hershel and beth deciding to hunker down in a decent sized guest bedroom, glenn and maggie ending up in a teenagers bedroom. Leaving you and daryl to find somewhere.

He picks the kitchen, curling up on the counter beside a small window he'd cracked open. The faint glowing embers at the end of his smoke, the only light in the room.

You could only faintly see him from the damp-smelling couch, an itchy blanket pulled over you. It wasn't much, definitely not enough to keep away the cold.

The faint glow eventually fades away, your eyelids growing increasingly heavy. There's faint, gentle footsteps somewhere in the house, it wasn't unfamiliar for someone in the group to be slightly restless, part of you questions weather the steps are really there or if you're hearing things in your exhausted state.

The footsteps grow closer as you draw closer to a peaceful slumber, you decide on checking if theres actually someone there "Daryl...?" You hum your voice quieter with a gentle sleepy rasp to it.

"M'not Daryl." Carl. He looms in the room somewhere.

"Carl?" You respond, he hadn't spoken a word to you since you'd seen him shoot your own father, the man had turned, he wasn't your father and you knew it... no one told you what really happened.

"I am sorry. s'just alot..." He hums, the moonlight falling on him from the doorway, his oversized pjs hanging off his lanky frame, his hand nervously rests against his mouth.

You pull yourself up so you're sat up fully, drawing your knees closer to your chest. feeling an overwhelming need to make yourself seem somewhat smaller. "sorry for what...?" you question, knowing the answer.

The pads of his feet make fall into a calm rhythm as he walks closer, slumping down beside you, his gaze falling on the pile of backpacks in the corner of the room.

"I had to, y'know?" Carl whispers, his voice faint and timid despite the lack of distance between them. In all reality the guilt had been gnawing at Carl since he did it, he did see the man as somewhat a father. He'd saved him right at the start, filling the place while Rick was supposedly dead.

"I know." You respond, his gaze softening as it lands on you. The tenseness in the air faltering slightly, fading away for just a moment.

Its a quiet moment between the two of you, Still something lingers in the room, something unsaid.

"I still care about you."

Carl whispers, like he's scared of you, what you're gonna say, gonna do. He feels an unfamiliar need to bring himself closer to you however, he's simultaneously trying to get closer and further away from you. He's just so overwhelmed with just everything that had happened he didn't know how to navigate tricky situations like this.

During the day, he had nothing but survival to think about, constantly in fight or flight mode. However, when night fell and everything went quiet, there was some faux sense of safety did the thoughts start. About everything, everyone he'd failed, Dale, Shane, mostly you, however. With his parents' relationship crumbling in front of him, he'd felt an ever-growing loneliness clawing at him.

You're not sure how to respond, nodding in acceptance. The air in the room lays thick and heavy, and the conversation falls short. Neither of you is entirely sure what needs to be said.

"I am sorry..." Carl whispers again, slightly to you, and slightly too himself. It was clear he blamed himself for Shane's death, even though Rick was the one who stabbed him. Carl hit the final blow.

"He was a dick anyway." You whisper a faint breathy chuckle, leaving your lips. Carl looks over at you, smiling slightly, letting out a gentle sniffle.

You weren't blind to how your father changed. He'd become cold since the day Rick returned. He wanted lori and Carl more than you and didn't even try and hide it.

"M'not angry, Carl," you coo quietly. You didn't know how to feel, honestly. Everything felt too much or too little.

Carl chews at his lip nervously,unsure on the truth behind your words. Somewhat denying the comfort they gave him and yearning for more.

"You sure?" Carl cautioned, his gaze gentle yet almost fearful as he looks at you.

"I'm sure." You respond, shuffling slightly closer to him. Suddenly aware of how cold the room had become.

The room falls silent. However, it isn't as thick and uncomfortable as it had been...it's comfortable. Neither of you needs to say anything more. It was a start. He'd spoken something to you after months of being so guilt-ridden that he couldn't.

[xoxochb]

[bonnibelerm]

ena art from the start of this year

It’s been sooooo long since I’ve been in pjsk fandom hi does pjsk tumblr exist?

[worm-wifeguy]

"Why do you cling to this corrupt world!?

You know that only God can save us!"

--

This was just for practicing different brushes, but i love heather mason, she's me fr

I feel like i can never draw her right xd what do yall think

[sage-lights]

if i could i'd freeze this moment

for @baflegacy’s smosh girlies week day 8 prompt: free day! word count: 1510 title from: "anaheim" by niki (this fic has literally been plaguing me for weeks. i've been running into writer's block after writer's block trying to finish it and it's literally past midnight where i am and i'm still not completely happy with it, but at least i finished it!)

It's getting dark out, the last glimmers of sunlight disappearing behind endless rows of snow-covered trees. The ground is pristinely powdered, not a single footprint marring the even surface. Everything is still out here.

Angela leans against the wooden railing of the back deck, admiring the landscape. Behind her is the sliding glass door that leads back into the cabin, cracked open enough for her to hear the loud "Come on’s!" and "Hell yeah’s!" of her friends.

She turn around for a brief second, observing how rowdy everyone is. Most of the Smosh cast and crew are squished together on the couch or floor. They’ve gathered around the TV and placed bets on the (very serious) Super Smash Bros tournament. A few are scattered throughout the open kitchen, chatting, laughing, and paying attention to the game with one ear.

The scene inside the cabin is bathed in the golden lamp light, cozy and familiar. But right now, that warmth is suffocating.

Angela’s glad that Ian and Anthony were able to finally pull this off. There had been whispers of bringing back Smosh Summer Games since the beginning of the year. But with the summer already packed full of different programming, the difficulties of finding a sponsor, and the sheer amount of pre-production required for a shoot of this scale, they ultimately decided it wouldn’t be feasible. Instead, they pivoted their efforts towards a revamped Smosh Winter Games, giving them more time to plan and elevate the event to the same caliber as Summer Games.

Based on the few days they've had already, Angela understands why Summer and Winter Games are so beloved by everyone. The games are insane, the rivalries are already forming, and every day, the stakes climb higher and higher.

Though, as much as Angela enjoys the constant excitement buzzing in the air, a lingering anxiety courses through her. She has yet to tell anyone the big news. At first, she convinced herself not to mention it yet because everyone was busy preparing for Winter Games. And now that they’re here in Big Bear, she’s created a new excuse to rationalize keeping this secret for even longer—she doesn’t want to detract from everyone relaxing and enjoying all their hard work by making herself the center of attention.

However, it’s been eating away at her. These days, the confession sits at the tip of her tongue, on the verge of slipping out anytime she has a conversation with someone.

She's snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the door squeakily roll open, forcing her back to the present moment. It's Amanda, with a drink in one hand and waving at her with the other. As she shuts the door, a cool breeze cuts through and Angela shivers a little.

Amanda notices. She picks up the throw blanket from the deck chair as she walks towards Angela, setting her mug down on the railing and wrapping the blanket around Angela's shoulders.

"Whatcha doing out here?" Amanda asks.

"Wondering how long it would take Shayne to find his way home if we blindfolded and dropped him off in the middle of the forest."

"What the hell?"

"He's a fan of Alone," Angela shrugs playfully.

"You're crazy," Amanda laughs.

Angela motions to the drink, "Hot cocoa?"

"With Baileys," she winks, "Tommy's making them."

Angela, still a little lost in thought, doesn’t respond, opting instead to envelop them in a comfortable silence. They both gaze out at the snowy landscape and stars twinkling up above. Angela can never see them from her apartment in Los Angeles; the light pollution always clouds her view. But out here, with Amanda standing next to her, everything is clear.

Whenever Amanda's by her side, something seems to shift in Angela. It's like Amanda's got this knack for quieting the chaos in her head. Everything, even the most tangled of thoughts, fall into place. She desperately wants to cling onto this peace, onto Amanda.

She wonders if she loves Amanda.

The idea shocks her a moment before she scoffs at it mentally. Of course she loves Amanda—she loves all her friends. She tells Arasha “I love you” when she hugs her before leaving the office, Chanse when he’s got her back, Courtney when they bring her food, and teases Shayne for chuckling uncomfortably when she tells him.

Yet, the longer she thinks about it, the more unsure she gets about grouping Amanda in with the rest of her friends. The more she realizes it’s different with Amanda. She doesn’t quite have the words to describe it, but she just knows. With every fit of uncontrollable laughter that’s got her falling into Amanda’s side, every glance exchanged while filming, and every burning touch, she just knows.

And then it clicks for Angela. It’s the thought of letting Smosh go, of letting Amanda go, that’s been scaring the living crap out of her.

Stunned by this sudden realization, she watches intently as Amanda sips her cocoa, who catches her staring and offers her a drink as well.

"Angela?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"About what?"

"Just stuff. Life stuff, you know?"

Amanda raises an eyebrow, concerned. "You seem a little off. Something on your mind?"

Angela hesitates. Once again, she can feel the words threatening to spill out of her. But this time, she doesn’t fight the urge. She wants to tell Amanda, wants her to tell her everything is going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay. She feels the alcohol start warm her system and takes a deep breath in, then out.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, baby.”

"No one else knows this yet, but I…booked a movie," she glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.

Amanda gasps, her eyes widening in surprise and excitement. She nudges Angela with her shoulder, "Oh, my god! Congratulations, angel!"

"Thanks, Amanda."

"Am I allowed to know what project it is, or is it a Marvel-level secret?"

Angela still doesn't meet Amanda's eyes, "Um, it's, uh, an indie film that A24’s looking to produce."

"Holy. Shit. That's fucking insane! This is huge, Angela. I'm so proud of you!" Amanda wraps an arm around her friend to pull her in closer, but pauses when she feels her stiffen in her embrace.

"Alright, something’s up,” Amanda faces her and, with a bit more seriousness and concern, asks, “Is there something in the script that makes you uncomfortable? Because if so, you should go and talk to-.”

Angela cuts her off, “No, there’s not. Don’t worry.”

Amanda’s relieved, though she sees Angela still has a strange faraway look on her face, “Then why do you not seem happy about this role?”

"No, I'm…I'm happy about it," Angela sighs heavily and finally looks up, only to be met with Amanda's unconvinced expression, "I swear I am. It's just that…I'm leaving Smosh soon."

"I get it, you hate working with us," Amanda jokes.

Immediately backtracking, Angela quickly mutters, "No! It's not like that, I didn't mean it like that."

"Chill, Ang. I'm just messing with you," Amanda laughs at Angela smacking her arm.

“Shut up, I’m trying to be vulnerable right now.”

Amanda gestures for her to continue, her face softening in apology.

"There's a tiny part of me who wants to turn down the role, but that would be such a stupid move—I know I would regret it instantly. But every time I think about doing this movie, a wave of panic washes over me and I become paralyzed with dread.”

Amanda places her hand on Angela's back, rubbing huge circles to help soothe her, "It's okay to be scared. Change is just one of those experiences that never gets easier."

"No, it’s not that. It’s just-,” her voice gets smaller, “Amanda, promise me we'll stay in touch."

"Duh, Ang. It’s not like you'll never see us again. You'll probably get upgraded to Mari and Sarah status, always welcome to drop by and say 'hello.' Maybe even join us in a video or two if your busy new schedule will allow it."

“Things it won't be the same."

Amanda acquiesces, "No, it won't. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing."

"I mean it, Amanda. I don’t want us to become those friends who never speak to each other after they stop working together. I don’t want to see your life through Instagram posts. You mean the world to me," Angela's voice cracks slightly, the tone of it so raw that it breaks Amanda’s heart.

Amanda reaches out and pulls Angela into a tight hug, "I promise you, Angela. Even when you’re super famous and walking down the Oscars red carpet, I’ll break in and chase you down just to tell you fart joke.

“You’re dumb,” Angela rolls her eyes, but sinks into her embrace and smiles.

“But I mean it. I love you endlessly, and I will always be here with you.”

Maybe this is what love truly is. Letting go when you want to hold on. Knowing that it’ll always return.

[deathofacupid]

I love neurosurgeon!gojo but i’m scared because are we also gonna do the “Oh, and you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband” 😭

omg i literally forgot about addison oops.. that would lowkey be funny (not that i support cheating irl guys) but also i cant think of anyone else that couldve been with gojo prior and is already a jjk character :(( so probably not but who knows im winging it

[mattsstarlet]

what did i do to deserve being treated like a worthless human being </3

[bambisnc]

am i tripping or are kiikii & hearts2hearts so sisters coded

[persephozee]

so I saw this fanart on Pinterest about Reiner-Eren parallels where they both watched someone they cared about get eaten

but I wasn't thinking about Reiner-Eren or even Marcel-Carla parallels when I saw this I began to think about Ymir-Dina parallels

both of these women were dehumanized and worshiped due to (in Ymir's case falsely) having royal blood

however Ymir took this burden upon herself and even ended up selflessly handing herself over the Marleyan officers

while Dina forced this onto her only son, who would eventually be the one who handed her over

and I think it's ironic that the selfless one is the one who gets a second chance at life, while the one who continued the cycle of dehumanization until she was punished for it was never lucky enough to come across a shifter

[atoruble]

Please shut the hell up about your insecurities in the jjk tags we don’t gaf

again!! did not mean to add those tags !! just block me if it pisses you off that badly !! also clearly you do care 'cause if you didnt you wouldn't have felt the need to go out of your way to tell me to shut up so