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tetsumie · 1 year

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"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘"

read part 2 here!

pairing: tsukishima x reader & suna x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

a/n: sorry i got carried away writing these ahh i sort of twisted the prompt of "when they call you clingy" into my own sort of thing idk how to explain but hopefully this turned out well :,) also not proofread so sorry about the mistakes! and as always feel free to send me requests and tell me ur thoughts on my writing!

tsukishima kei

tsukishima, you, and a few of the former karsuno volleyball players decided to have a small little reunion dinner after not seeing each other for so long.

everyone's embracing each other with hugs and to be frank, it's really nice of him to invite you to meet his friends from high school! you're really looking forward to getting to know them and maybe even getting to know your boyfriend a bit more.

as all of you are sitting at the table debating what to order, there's much chit chat between everyone and you swear you haven't seen kei so carefree in a while. sure, he's still throwing his sarcastic, snarky comments but they don't hit too harshly towards his teammates.

they are most definitely used to this.

the food has arrived and way too much wine has been ordered. with their slurred words and pink cheeks, you can tell all of them are going to blackout the moment they all get home.

"kei, so how'd you pull this gorgeous girl?" tanaka asks out of nowhere "ain't no way she fell for your snarky ass personality."

you and him both let out a chuckle and he replied with, "nah, they're just clingy as fuck and i guess they were fun to keep around."

you go quiet and the laughter has sort of died out. but the drinks keep pouring and nishinoya speaks.

"god, you're a fucking asshole," nishinoya chimes. "she's way too good for you.

although the conversation begins to take a turn in a different direction, you can't seem to get his words out of your mind.

clingy. he thinks i'm clingy.

a ball of insecurity starts to form in your stomach and his comment starts the train of overthinking. you keep telling yourself that he's had too many drinks.

yet a part of you is telling you that drunk thoughts are sober words.

how long has he thought of me as "clingy?"

the small chuckles and laughs that escape your lips have come to a halt and now you're feeling incredibly insecure. you begin to zone out and start chugging down a few glasses of wine to drown out your surroundings.

after a few eventful hours, you and tsukishima decide to grab a taxi and head home for the night. he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and you immediately head into the bedroom to change your clothes, not sparing him a second glance.

tsukishima enters the bed after cleaning up and his arm drapes over your chest. your body goes completely stiff and you're super uncomfortable with his touch, especially after his comment about you being clingy.

the moment you hear his light snores, you slowly remove his arm off your body and turn to face away from him. a feeling of numbness begins to overtake your body and you feel a sense of emptiness within.

the next morning, tsukishima woke up with a horrible headache and he instantly regretted drinking so much last night. he groans and pats your side of the bed and is greeted by just the bedsheets and not you.

grumbling, he got out of bed in search of you and finds you standing by the balcony with a cup of coffee in your hand. in that moment, his heart skips a beat and he's reminded of how much he loves you.

you yelp in surprise when you feel two arms slither around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder. "good morning baby," he kisses your cheek.

"hi kei," you say curtly.

"what's for breakfast?"

"i just made myself toasted bread with jam. you can just make some cereal or something. i think we still have your lucky charms in the pantry," you tell him.

he pulls away from you and he feels something is off with you. you feel distant.

the feeling is confirmed when the both of you are sitting on the living room sofa while watching the new episode of your favorite reality tv show. kei expects you to come close to him and rest your head on his shoulder like you usually do yet there you are, in his vicinity, but sitting on the other end of the couch, clinging to a throw pillow.

he can't seem to concentrate on the movie when the only thing he can see is you sitting to yourself, gone completely quiet. he doesn't know what's wrong and he can't rack his mind as to what might have happened that made you so distant.

after the movie ends, he kisses your forehead and he feels your body stiffen.

what's going on? i don't know what i did?

he pulls away and looks at you. "y/n, something's wrong," he states.

you refuse to meet his gaze now and your twiddling with your fingers. he seems to have no recollection of what he's said to you last night. although, he might not recall what he said, it's the only thing you can recall in your mind. ever since this morning, whenever, you look at him, the only thing running in your mind is his words, "nah, she's just clingy as fuck and i guess she was fun to keep around."

"we're good," you reply promptly. "don't worry about it."

he grabs your hands and puts them in his which catches you off guard. you love the feeling of his hand in yours but the rational part of your brain wants to pull away, thinking about how he thought you were so clingy.

"listen, i'm not good at this. i'm not good at communicating my feelings but for you, i want to do better. so please, it would mean a lot if you could tell me what's wrong so i can help you and... us."

this is the most genuine you've seen him in a while and although to most, it may have seemed like some half-assed speech but to you, it felt raw and vulnerable.

"ok well," you began. "last night, when we were out with your friends, you were talking with your friends and well, you mentioned something about me. and it made me wonder if you think i'm clingy?"

he was confused. "no, i don't think you're clingy anymore? i don't know what you're talking about?"

the "anymore" in his response to you was something that saddened you a little. he found me clingy yet never told me?

"so you did think i was clingy, right?"

with a deep breath, he began to explain himself, "when we got together, i wasn't really used to... being so close to someone. you would always hold my hand or loop your arm in mine or something. you would always be holding me or touching me and i wasn't sure how i felt it about it at first. i was never one for physical touch so when you began to show that to me, i just... it felt... suffocating."

you're looking into his eyes, swimming with sadness and searching for answers, and he feels a mixture of sadness and guilt as he continues to explain himself.

"but being with you, i've grown to love your touch and honestly, now that i think about it, i don't know what i'd do if you just stopped being yourself and clinging on to me. i would go insane if you stopped."

kei leans in for a hug and you hug him back. you missed holding him like this and well, you just miss him. but now that kei has said all this, you're not sure about anything anymore.

you pull away and tell him, "i'm sorry you couldn't tell me that you were uncomfortable with my touches. i should have asked you how fast or slow you wanted to go and i shouldn't have forced my affection on to you."

"if you want, we can slow down. i understand," you say with a tone of finality in your voice.

"no!" he immediately replied. "it's.. it's not that. you don't force your affection on to me. you never have. i just am awkward with affection and growing up, i've never had it so i'd get super fidgety and that's why i think i felt like you were being clingy. but i love it."

"i love it when you hold my hand when we're walking to the grocery store. i love it when you doodle on my hand with your fingers when we're waiting for the food to come when we eat out. i love it when you tell me about the little stories from work while you're cooking dinner. i love it when you mumble in your sleep and snuggle close to me when it gets cold at night. i love everything about you."

kei was very much out of his comfort zone as he told you all these things and it surprised you that he noticed all these little details. you could tell he was getting embarrassed, considering how his cheeks were turning pink. you couldn't help but let a little smile seep through your facial features.

"you're so sappy," you reply.

"oh shut up."

you both laugh and then he cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. "don't ever think you force your affection on me because you never do, okay?"

"okay, kei."

the both of you spend the rest of the day with one another, making comforting memories together that the both of you will fondly remember in the future.

suna rintaro

you're not even sure how this argument even started. all you can remember is asking suna if he could accompany you to a work party that you were invited to. it was supposed to be a relatively relaxing event with not too much worries yet suna was once again trying to bail out.

"come on rin! it's one party and we never get to go out anymore," you try again for the nth time.

"y/n, jesus, i told you this, i don't want to fucking go! practice is draining me out and the one day i get off, you want me to go to some stupid fucking work party. can't you see that i want to be home?"

"we won't even have to be there that long! i just want you to come with me so you can meet some of my friends and support me. i'm really not asking for much," you counter. "i'm always trying to go to your games to support you from the stands and i'm asking you to do this one thing for me."

"i never fucking asked you to come to my games!" suna's voice began to rise and you felt yourself shrink. you had never seen him so intensely angry before. he was always so nonchalant so seeing this side of him made you nervous. "god, you're just so suffocating with everything. you always wanna do shit together, like jeez, give me a break. you're so fucking clingy sometimes; i just want space."

your mouth snaps shut and you can't find it in yourself to even reply. suna leaves the bedroom and you can head the jangle of his keys and the front door opens and then slams shut. a tear escapes from one eye and then all of a sudden, it's a full blown mental breakdown. you're sitting on the bed, crying off all your makeup.

after your cries turn into sniffles, you call up one of your colleagues, telling them you won't be attending the party. that night, you end up crying yourself to sleep.

suna had come home quite late that night after storming out.

in his head, he admits that the argument had blown up for no reason. but he just really didn't want to see your coworkers. he was cranky, annoyed, and irritated, making him deeply irrational.

as he walks into the bedroom, he sees you fast asleep in your clothes that you were planning to go out in and your makeup smudged all over your face. he felt incredibly guilty.

he messed up big time and he had to fix this. he hoped in the morning, the both of you would wake up together so he could talk it out and apologize.

you wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than last night. you turn to see suna lying in bed and a part of you just wants to run your fingers through your hair. as your fingers hover above his head, you're reminded of his words from last night.

you're so fucking clingy sometimes. i just want space.

your fingers immediately retracted and you decided to get up to start the rest of your day. you didn't want to let his words get to you. he said his opinion and there's nothing much you could do other than give him space. you'd be doing him a favor by giving him that space that he wanted, right?

suna shifts in bed, arm reaching out to your side of the bed, subconsciously. as he pats down your side of the bed, he feels the emptiness and he jolts up out of bed.

he's walking out of the bedroom and he sees you sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.

a sigh of relief escapes his mouth, thanking whatever deity out there that you hadn't left. even if you did, he couldn't blame you for it. he hurt you and there was no denying that.

"hi babe," he casually says alouds and plops on the couch next to you.

"hey."

your tone is cold and to be frank, you could care less than speak to him right now. seeing him is just a constant reminder of how clingy you are and you really don't want to be confronted with the feeling of sadness again.

in an attempt to smooth things over with you, he tries to start conversation in hopes that things will get back to normal naturally and maybe.. just maybe you'll know that he's sorry without him saying it.

"osamu was talking about some new onigiri thing he made and he wanted to drop some off for us to try. should i say yes?" he asked.

"sure."

your responses to his efforts are completely shut down and he's just praying that things get better with time. he reassures himself that things will go back to normal, it's just a matter of time. within a few days, things will be back to normal!

that's what he thought until his first volleyball match of the season came about. as he was standing in the court, his eyes scanned the rest of the stadium for your figure in hopes of finding you wearing his jersey but to no avail, he couldn't find you.

he assumed you were running late or stuck in traffic. no matter what you would be here, right?

but the first set is already over and you're nowhere to be seen. taking a quick break, he texts you:

suna: r u here?

suna: i don't see u in the stands.

it's delivered and suna's back in the court. he's misreading all of the opponent's attacks and his blocks are all being haphazardly done. the only thing on his mind is you.

the EJP coach calls for a timeout and sits him out for the rest of the match. "i don't know what's going on with you but you need to pull it together. your slacking is messing up with the rest of the team," coach berated him and all suna could do was nod his head.

he sat on the bench and immediately grabs his phone to text you.

suna: can you please answer?

suna: or call me? please?

suna: fuck y/n

suna: r u ok?

with no response, concern is etched onto his face. he tells his coach that he has to go and although he's about to suffer hell when he goes to practice tomorrow for dipping, he needs to see you.

you're seeing all of his messages.

you've seen all of them.

and you don't want to respond to a single one of them.

you know he's coming home and he's about to bombard you with questions and you don't want to respond to him. you don't want to come off as clingy again.

you hear the jangle of the keys and prepare yourself.

he opens the door and finds you in the kitchen, making yourself some snacks.

"so where were you today?" he begins.

"at home."

his hands find their way to your waist and he slowly turns you around to look him in the eye. "why didn't you come?"

you sigh in frustration. "i don't know what you want from me. you say i'm clingy and you want some space and on top of that you mentioned how you've never asked me to go to any of your games so here i am respecting your wishes like you asked yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me where i was and why i wasn't with you?"

his hands let go of your waist and he steps back to fully look at you.

"rin, i don't know what you want from me anymore."

suna's mouth opens and then shuts, not sure as to what to say to you. you were more upset about his comment than you let on and now all your anger and frustration was coming out.

"listen, i-"

"no, you listen to me," you interrupt, immediately shutting him up. "all i wanted that night was for you to come to my work party. it's all i wanted. that party was mainly for me because i helped our company reach this new milestone! and i wanted you to come and celebrate with me and my colleagues. is it so much to ask for my boyfriend to come support me?"

"and then you go on to say i'm clingy and do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you said that? when you would talk to me about anything, the only thing going through my head would be the fact that you called me clingy and god, i just wanted to vanish in thin air because i hated knowing that you thought that of me which is why i gave you your space. i kept thinking you just didn't want my affection."

you rest your elbows on the kitchen countertop and put your face in your hands. you finally burst out with all the feelings that have been suffocating your mind. it felt good to finally relieve it all but you could only imagine what was going through his mind. was he mad or upset or did he just not care about my feelings?

all of a sudden, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and kisses to the top of your head.

"love, you're not clingy. if anything, i'm the clingy one. i always want you by my side like at my games or when i go out with my friends or even if i'm just lying in bed. i want you."

he strokes your hair and now you're turning around to look at him again. his eyes are wide and a bit glassy. this is probably one of the first times you've seen emotion on his face aside from his regular snarky remarks.

"i wish i could take back what i said that night but i can't. but please know that i don't know what i'd do without you. i was really upset that night and all i wanted to was just sleep it off. but your insistence to go got me aggravated and i lashed out. you don't deserve that. you never deserve that."

"i want to be the one you wake up to in the morning. i want to be the one you take to all your work parties and events. i want to be the one you tell you gossip with. i want to be the one you have your late night talks with. i want to be the one you end your nights with. i want to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. i want to be yours."

tears started to escape your eyes and your heart was swollen. suna was never one to be so open with his emotions yet here he was opening so much to you. you hug his torso and sob into his chest.

"i love you, i'm sorry," you say.

"i love you too, and i'm sorry too," he replies, kissing the top of your forehead.

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cr4yolaas · 19 days

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for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

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obliteration-onearth · 8 months

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[ not a romantic; tsukishima kei ]

he most definitely is not a romantic so.. whoever does these sweet little gestures for you is most certainly not your boyfriend.

ANTI ROMANTIC KEI WHO:

- scrolls on pinterest sometimes and suddenly finds something he thinks you'll like

- sends dumb messages with mean petnames like, "hurry up squirt. i'm outside your house"

- bought matching dinosaur onesies because you thought the two of you would look cute wearing it

- doesn't like double texting and needs reassurance that it's cute for him to do it

- eventually learns about all your quirks and grows fond of them despite displaying a mischievous demeanor by teasing you for them

- thinks you're cute when you hug him

- doesn't get flustered easily but bullies you when he does to make it less obvious

- may think some of your favorite foods are gross but buys them regardless when he's picking out snacks to bring to your house

- says that he's busy but helps you study and revise for your exams anyways

- says that he's the reason you passed even though he's mighty proud of you

- doesn't let you win any games at first but when he sees you sad, let's you win at least one to lift your spirits

- sends you the middle finger emoji after saying something so sickening sweet to even out the balance and to keep that reputation he has ( wouldn't wanna go to soft, he thinks )

- gets annoyed and then just turns away while being crimson in the face when you tease him for being soft

- finds it cute when you do romantic gestures for him but sometimes tell yamaguchi like "yeah, i got a cool girlfriend" or some shit

- says you're being weird for toying with/wearing his glasses and finds it hilarious when you say you feel dizzy ( catches you and tells you to be careful if you fall though )

- apologizes when you say you feel offended by something he says, thus making him write a mental note not to do it again in the future

- loves when you lay atop him whilst hugging him, your head nestled into his neck as you scroll on your phone

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nerd-of-karasuno · 9 months

Note

Could you do dating headcannons with tuskishima??

im so sorry these took so long!! I lost a lot of motivation for writing as some not so wonderful stuff happen irl for me. Hope y'all are doing well tho and thanks for following even tho I was inactive on here 🫶

Word Count: 1.2k

We all know he is so soft for you

even right when he first mets you

no one can deny this :D

But it's hard to read Tsukki during your first conversation with him.

Yamaguchi notices that you like each other first of course

Well, he knew you liked Tsukki, but it took him longer to figure out if Tsukki liked you back.

Tsukki was in denial about his feelings for you for a very long time.

He hates opening up to anyone.

Tsukishima was definitely hesitant about letting you meet his family, especially his brother

But they all had a feeling he had found someone who was very special to him

Yamaguchi pushes Tsukki to you quite a bit. He knows that you're good for each other.

However Yamaguchi will never tell you about Tsukki's crush for him. He refuses to do that although it's tempting occasionally

he really wants Tsukki to tell you himself on his own terms, but that doesn't mean he won't bug Tsukishima

i feel like Tsukishima's confession is so casual tho.

like he figures out that you like him back due to the way he notices that you act around him

He gets a little fed up that you're acting odd around him (if you happen to)

He's not mad at you at all. He just wants you to be normal around him and be your usual self.

So Tsukki walks up to you one day before school starts and says he likes you kinda bluntly

If you take too long to respond because of the abruptness of his confession, he'll go and head on to class

he might even smirk at you a little at you, knowing he's got you to freeze up as he walks away into the room where his first class is

and before you could even reply, the starting bell for classes go off.

then at lunch Tsukki asks if you want to go out to lunch during the upcoming weekend

well it's more like he says that you're going to lunch with him

but he does ask if you're free 👍

One thing I feel like Tsukki does quite a lot is write you little notes after you start dating

don't worry he does actually ask you to be his partner during your first date

Sometimes the notes serve as reminders to do a certain homework assignment or study or drink water and other times they're notes that say something subtlety romantic

You never see Tsukki place these notes in your bag, desk, and room but he always finds a way

One time you found one even on your notes app on your phone.

No one had any clue how that one ended up there

There aren't an absurd number of these notes, so they are always meaningful.

Often they appear when you're going through a rough time even if you haven't told Tsukki about whatever is going on yet.

Tsukishima takes an interest in your hobbies although he pretends that he doesn't.

He likes watching you do your hobbies, like if you draw, he admires you while you do so, denying at any chance you try to get him to admit to it

Then he'll drop a sly compliment at a random and unexpected time.

something really cute for you to do would be to get small matching dinosaur keychains

Tsukki would probably brush you off a little bit when you give it to him

but please note that he softens up a little bit when he first sees it, handles it with care, and that the next day it's on his school bag.

the actual dinosaur inside his bag but still

Tsukishima finds the gift super sweet

Tsukki's whole family adores you. It was Yamaguchi who accidently tells them with a little 'Sorry Tsukki!' followed afterwards

Tsukki's big brother loves hanging out with you and telling you stories about your boyfriend when he was younger.

He has top tier kid Tsukishima stories and Mrs. Tsukishima provides excellent baby photos

All much to Tsukki's embarrassment.

He's quite happy if he gets the same treatment at your house when he meets your parents and is told similar types of stories and is shown baby photos of you.

He teases you so much for it.

He teases you a lot actually.

Tsukki's teasing actually depends on how much you can handle.

He didn't pay attention to how he teases you in the beginning of your romantic relationship and soon regretted it if you reacted negatively to it.

Tsukishima toned it down after that.

No one else gets that same treatment tho

And boy are some of the boys on Tsukishima's volleyball team envious of you

Speaking of...

Tsukishima has never had any intention of you meeting his team besides Yamaguchi.

He tells you that he plays for Karasuno and that's about it if you ask him.

If you push, he says that he's a middle blocker.

Yamaguchi gets you the good information tho and even tells you the times the team practices if you ever wanna watch

Because both you and Yamaguchi know that Tsukki doesn't really mind you watching him practice

He just doesn't want you to meet the rest of his team.

What Yamaguchi fails to tell you though is what the rest of the Karasuno volleyball team is like.

Everyone on the team notices that someone is watching them practice pretty quickly as that doesn't happen too often.

So of course you get introduced to the team.

Yamaguchi insists that Tsukishima is the one who introduces you officially.

So Tsukki simply says your name and that you're his partner.

✨ then the chaos ensues ✨

Daichi is impressed and Suga is so happy that one of his children found a partner

Tanaka and Nishinoya are shocked and jealous. They probably will try and mess with Tsukki by trying to take you away from him jokingly.

Kageyama and Hinata is like why Tsukki out of all people.

That's all before Coach Ukai gets them all to refocus

Takeda offers you to sit by him and Kiyoko.

So congrats you are accepted by the Karasuno High School Boys Volleyball team.

Tsukishima gets nervous if you come to an actual game

He loves hearing you cheer in the crowd for him

Just don't say anything embarrassing or he will turn and glare at you or straight up ignore you.

When Karasuno wins the first time you're at a game, Tsukki hugs you in public, surprising you greatly.

He hates public affection a lot but he will hug you full on or give you a side hug after winning

One thing Tsukki doesn't mind to much is if you run to him and hug his torso.

He finds it a little endearing but it still isn't enough for him to hug you back.

If you're around friends, he'll maybe put a hand one of your shoulders.

If you're with someone like Yamaguchi, Tsukki will actually pat your head and rest his hand on the top of your head

That reminds me, Tsukishima definitely leans on you if you're alone and you're shorter than him, even if it's a small height difference, he does it to mess with you.

All in all, Tsukishima's a good boyfriend who really cares for you and really loves you. You just have to see past the tough walls he's placed up.

hope you liked these! I found this request to be probably the hardest of all headcannons I've done (which is a lot) so I hope that I wrote Tsukki well.

#tsukkishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #kei tsukishima #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #tsukki #hq tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima haikyuu #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima fic

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veesketchook · 11 months

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#yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #tsukkiyama #tsukishima x yamaguchi #haikyuu!!#hq fanart #haikyuu fanart #tsukishima haikyuu #haikyuu

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godlyaffection · 2 years

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tsukishima calling you baby

he’s not one to use petnames of any kind often, at least not petnames that are sweet. he will insult you and call you things like loser or idiot, in the nicest way he can muster of course. but when he uses sweet nicknames it’s for one of two reasons, he’s feeling bad or you are.

if you’ve had a bad day, he’ll tone back his sarcasm a bit, offering to do sweet things for you and start calling you sweet names. he normally sticks with baby, occasionally you’ll get something else but it’s mostly just baby.

he does it especially often when he is having a bad day. he’ll slip it into conversations subtly at first. saying something like “are you going to walk home with me baby?” you know now that it always means he’s having a bad day when he says things like that. however when the two of you are alone on days like that he gets especially sweet.

tsukishima will wrap his arms around you and hold you close, and every time you shift in his arms, even if you aren’t actually going anywhere, he’ll say “please baby, stay with me” tsukishima isn't one to be vulnerable often, so it has to be a really bad day for him to act that way, but when he does, he's much too sweet to deny him of anything.

he calls you baby as an insult sometimes too. when he's not having a bad day sometimes he will call you a baby, his tone is always so different to when he calls you baby seriously. he does it when you whine to him about anything. it's his lovely way of taking a nickname you love and using it to insult you. you don't mind too much, it's one of the things that makes him the way he is.

#i live for soft tsukishima #.written-word (drabble)#x male reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #haikyuu #tsukishima haikyuu #kei tsukishima x male reader #tsukishima x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu writing #tsukishima fluff #fluff #haikyuu fluff

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kairiscorner · 6 months

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y'all hear me out

kenma and tsukki are arctic monkeys fans .

will i make fics based on this (maybe yes)

#kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kei tsukishima #tsukishima kei #kenma x reader #tsukki x reader #kenma fanfic #haikyuu kenma #kenma haikyuu #tsukishima haikyuu #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fanfiction

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Note

hi emmy! congrats on the milestone!! (im sorry for being late 😔) u deserve so much more love <3!! i feel rlly proud for u, even tho i started following u not long ago :) i can feel u being sincere with everybody which is rlly cool! :D and i wanted to do 27 from your prompt list and 4 from the second list on hugs w/ tsukki :) i hope u have a great day and stay healthy and take care!! -anon :)

YOURE SO SWEET, THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS 🥺💖

Honestly I want this to be a place where anyone feels welcome to poke around, so to kinda hear that you get that vibe really does mean the most. ALSOO my first Tsukki piece!! Hope I didn’t do him dirty!!

27 “I swear, I’m not scared”

4 Hugs “Comforting”

—

“Are you sure-”

“Yup. I am perfectly fine with this circumstance.”

Despite your quivering words and tense shoulders, your eyes never leave the screen. Seems to be mistake, as instantly, the monster portrayed in the film hides just in the background, barely in sight. Kei rolls his eyes while yours absolutely refuse to leave the monster that lingers without being noticed by the protagonists.

Next to you, an equally scared but exponentially enthralled Yachi, on the floor are the other three third years who shout at the stupidity of the characters on screen.

Movie nights have always been a tradition, especially on Halloween; like hell you were going to disrupt the fun.

Not like you were scared or anything.

“If you’re scared, I can ask Tadashi to-”

“I swear, I’m not scared,” you hiss. Your body betrays you, as your finger nails dig at your cuticles, anxiously scanning for the monster the movie finally has panned away from.

“But what if it’s real?” Hinata says, popping some gummy bears in his mouth.

“What if what’s real?” Kageyama asks back.

“Like, what if you were killed in any rage? Do you think you would come back as one of those?” Hinata’s finger nudges at the screen, referring to the horrors as if they’re not fake.

“You keep talking and I’m gonna kill you in a fit of rage,” Kageyama snaps, and a few feet away, Tadashi snickers.

“If I come back as one of those demons, I’m gonna haunt you so bad!”

Next to him, Kei hears you whimper, and he lets out a snarl at the idea of the others making you afraid.

“That’s enough,” Kei finally snaps. “Shut the hell up, or we’re leaving.”

“What’s the matter?” Hinata teases. “You scaaaared we’re gonna haunt you?”

You look away, embarrassed. If looks could kill, Hinata would be buried by Kei’s.

“You already haunt my everyday life, that’s horrific enough.”

Finally, a quiet falls back over the group, engrossed in the rising tension. You look like you’re completely settled in rigor mortis, and you look so scared he thinks you could puke straight onto Yamaguchi’s rug.

With a deep inhale through his nose, sucking up his pride, Kei wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. You make a small, confused noise at the sudden affection, and he noses at your hairline.

“Kei? What’re you-”

“I’m scared,” he says simply, though there’s a total calm in his voice. He conceals you slightly in his frame, the flashing on screen dimmed in his hoodie fabric. “Hate this shit, but I know you want to finish it, so I’m just gonna... hold you.”

An overly wordy, but extremely soothing “I know your stubborn ass doesn’t want to leave, so I’ll keep your cover.”

You blink, surprised at the gentleness in his voice, but you decide to curl against him adoringly, melting in the comforting embrace, the friends scattered around you two being none the wiser to the chatter between you both.

You press an soft kiss to his jawline, feeling immensely better in the bulk of his arms. Your eyes gently flutter close and you take selfish inhales of his scent, mumbling a soft “thank you,” into the meat of his bicep. He nods and settles back down for his own physical comfort, the whole group gasping out as another scare plagues the air surrounding you both.

The scare fades, and you feel your breathing even out as you rest against your boyfriend, mind at ease and-

“Ohhhhh, I get it! Tsukishima wasn’t scared, but-”

There’s a sudden thump and a pained whine from Hinata, quickly then followed by “don’t kick me, Suckishima!” Your laughter gets muffled in the hoodie, mingled only with the other laughter from the other boy, Yachi quickly asking if the middle blocker was okay.

Definitely a tradition.

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reetslol · 2 years

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[waves pride flag]

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northofneverland · 2 years

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The first time Tsukishima sees you is through his camera’s lens. You’re perched on a park bench, wrapped snugly in a chunky wool knit scarf, sipping on a cup of coffee as you leaf through an art book on your lap. From his camera, time seems suspended, with you at the centre of the photograph, the rest of the park goers blurring together until they blend into a swath of muted colours and nothing more. As his fingers hover over the button to capture this singular moment, of what he deems is perfection, your eyes find his lens and the shutter flashes.

📸 📸 📸

The second time Tsukishima photographs you, his photography class is on a walking tour around campus with the goal of capturing beauty in mundane activities. His camera finds you first, your figure centred, once again, perfectly in the middle of his display. A strong gust of wind awakens the fallen leaves scattered on the cobblestone path you’re both walking on. In a whirlwind of autumn, the foliage dances around you, and you throw your head back laughing, looking up at the sky with a look of wonder and bliss. Without thinking twice, he takes the picture. The LCD screen doesn’t do the moment justice, he thinks, but as he zooms in on your face, a shaky sigh leaves his lips as he notices the minor details that make you so captivating. While his peers are focused on their walk, he falls to the back of the crowd and fastens the cap on top of his lens. He doesn’t need his camera for the rest of the class; he already has the perfect photo. As you walk past him, brushing the remaining leaves out of your hair, his eyes can’t help but follow your figure till you’re far out of sight. And for the second time in his life, he finds himself thinking maybe he’s found a hobby worth pursuing.

📸 📸 📸

The third time Tsukishima runs into you, he gets your number. He’s sitting in a cafe, uploading and editing the photos he’s taken this month for his class’ monthly update. He adjusts his headphones so that they only fully cover one ear before he leans back in his chair, closing his eyes as he rolls out his stiff neck.

“Holy shit, is that me?”. Immediately his eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and he’s greeted by the sight of you leaning over his shoulder as you try to get a better look at his computer screen.

“So what if it is?” he replies, coming off a little harsher than he intended, but you don’t seem to notice as you move closer into his space. Your face is close, too close, to his as you press against his shoulder. The smell of your strawberry perfume floods his senses, and, suddenly, he’s nervous. Suddenly his heart is hammering harder in his chest. Suddenly he can’t think of any snide or sarcastic remarks.

“I look beautiful” you whisper, your fingers reaching out, hovering over his screen.

“Everyone does when there are filters”. He wants to kick himself for being so rude, but a part of him hopes that you can keep up with his snide remarks. You do look beautiful, he’d be the first to admit, gorgeous even, and that’s why he’s been stuck editing this photo of you.

“Yeah, I guess, but you haven’t put any on”, you smirk as you point to the title of the image, campus_muse_original_image (duplicate before editing).psd. You pull a napkin from the dispenser before fishing in your jacket pocket for a pen. Uncapping it with your teeth, you write down ten digits before signing off as ‘campus muse’.

“When you’re done editing the photo, I’d love to have a copy of it”. Your speech is muffled as you try to put the cap back on your pen.

You’re nothing like he expected you to be; you’re everything he’s told himself he’d never like, too touchy, too loud, too excited, too… beautiful. But as you settle into a nearby table and start to work on your laptop, he can’t help but look up at you once in a while. Maybe if you were more like him it would work out, he thinks to himself as he stares at the napkin before crumpling it up.

Three days later, he finds himself punching your phone number as he attaches the photo of you to his text. His phone buzzes immediately after sending the message before buzzing a few minutes later.

Campus Muse: Thank You!!! Campus Muse: I must be perfect in your eyes, or you must be the world's worst photo editor because you didn’t change anything. Campus Muse: Also, until you tell me your name, you’re going to be called Campus Creeper on my phone.

Tsukishima can’t help but scoff at the last message before replying with his name. You’ll text back and forth for a week, at most, he figures, before you both forget about each other, but for the moment, he lets himself enjoy this, enjoy you.

📸 📸 📸

The first photo of the two of you as friends is actually a strip of four black and white photos taken in a cramped photo booth. He was wrong about you only texting for a week, you were insistent and he, well, he was entertained. And within those conversations, he began to realize that you had a lot in common and a few mutuals, specifically two loud family friends, whom he was well acquainted with from a summer training camp a few years back. Soon those texts evolved into lunches, which evolved into dinners, which evolved into late-night phone calls, and after a month, he feels like he knows everything about you and is addicted to knowing more. Which is why, he’s not as prickly when you drag him into a photo booth at the campus carnival with Kuroo and Bokuto. Tsukishima watches the three of you situate yourself in the small space, yelling out different suggestions of poses to strike before each flash goes off. It’s chaotic and reminiscent of his ‘adventures’ in high school but he can’t help but smirk at how much fun you’re having. As he looks over the freshly printed photo strip, he realizes two things immediately. First, he needs to teach Kuroo and Bokuto how to pose as their bodies are blurry in all four photos. Second, and more importantly, he needs to be better at hiding his expressions around you, because the way he looks at you, he learns, is not how friends look at one another.

📸 📸 📸

There’s only one picture to mark your first anniversary as a couple, and it’s a picture of you. The date of your one-year together lands on the day of a highly anticipated volleyball match, and instead of letting him call in sick, you insist that the two of you celebrate after his victory. Which is why he finds you, sitting on his bed with a makeup brush in one hand and a hand mirror in the other as he emerges from his bathroom in his competition jersey. He watches silently as you puff your cheeks, painting a little green frog on the right and the number 17 on the left. And while he hates the tacky green and yellow hue of his team’s colours, they don’t look so bad on you. The letters of his last name seem to fit perfectly on your back, he muses for a second, before shaking the thought from his head. Those are ones he can indulge in later in the night, in private, after the game; your presence is already going to be a big enough distraction and he doesn’t want to lose. Not today, not in front of you.

“Take a picture” you tease as you catch him staring from the corner of the mirror “it will last longer”. He can’t help but roll his eyes at your comment, but he pulls out his phone and takes the photo, flicking your forehead lightly, after he gets his shot.

“If you get paint on my jersey, you better wash it”.

That night, as you sleep soundly next to him on his bed, he traces his name across the width of your shoulders. He was right, he thinks as he pulls up the photo he took earlier, setting it as his phone’s home screen, it does fit perfectly.

📸 📸 📸

Tsukishima’s 10,367th photo of you is the one that convinces him to put in the effort of figuring out the steps of setting up a gallery show. It’s a close-up photo of your face from when he took you to watch the fireworks from the roof of your shared apartment building. The photo perfectly captures your childlike wonder, your eyes sparking as they mirror the kaleidoscopic designs in the sky. It’s a stunning photo. One of his bests he’d argue, as he looks at the image projected on the mini screen. But for him, this image is an awakening. No, it’s a confirmation. It is at this moment he realizes he wants to spend his whole life showing you how he sees you. Instead of enjoying the night with his head tilted up towards the sky, watching the symphony of colours like everyone else on the roof, his gaze is on you as he mentally begins to sort through the shots of you he wants to feature in his gallery.

📸 📸 📸

The most recent photo, and the last-minute addition to the exhibition, is one he took this morning. It’s arguably his most daring one yet. For once, you’re not the focal point in it, but it ties the exhibit nicely and he hopes he’s making the right choice of adding it in. Straightening the frame one last time, he heads back to the entrance where you’re waiting for him, glancing one last time at this picture, at the end of the long corridor of photos. Even though it's technically not of you, his heart can’t help but flutter a little as he walks away from it.

📸 📸 📸

If you were to ask Tsukishima how he was feeling about his upcoming photography exhibit his workplace is featuring, he’d say he’s feeling indifferent at best. To be completely honest, he’s scared shitless and everyone, except you, knows this. But he made a promise to you when you started dating, that if he were to contribute to an exhibit, in any capacity, he’d give you a private tour of it the night before it opened. He made that comment in passing, tangled in sheets as you were drifting off to bed, never thinking you’d hold him to it. Then again, he never thought you’d stick around after all these years. To him, you were his muse. But what was he to you expect for the tall, grumpy boyfriend who could get things off of tall shelves? You’re here with him, he reassures himself, as you clutch his left arm and he leads you to the first photo of the exhibit. You’re with him, you have been for six years and you love him; he repeats this mantra twice over and his mind settles. His right-hand palms the small box he’s kept in his pocket for luck despite everyone insisting he won’t need it.

📸 📸 📸

You meander through the quiet gallery with your boyfriend in tow, giggling and laughing at the hundreds of memories frozen in time for you to reminisce on. Most of the photos are ones that you’ve seen before or ones that you remember him taking, and Tsukishima’s heart swells seeing you so happy, seeing you so happy because of him. His pace slows as you walk ahead, to the end of the gallery, and your eyes catch a glimpse of a photo you’ve never seen before. Knowing what captures your attention, Tsukishima hangs back, giving you your own space, and watches you analyze the photo. It’s one that has consumed his entire being since taking it yesterday; it's one that can change everything. He blinks and the image is still ingrained in his mind. You’re in the background of the photo, back facing his camera as you’re washing the leftover dishes in the kitchen sink. In the center of the frame, in razor-sharp clarity, are his index finger and thumb holding up a dainty diamond ring.

📸 📸 📸

“So, what do you think?” he asks, weaving his arm around the shape of you as he comes up from behind.

“About the gallery? Not bad, but you could have picked a better subject.” Half-heartedly, you elbow his side but he barely budges, scoffing at your weak attempt at humour and show of strength as you both appreciate the art in front of you.

“And what about this photo?” he urges, his voice tinged with annoyance, as he nods to the frame.

“What about it?”

“What about it” he imitates, his voice octaves higher than your own.

“You know I’m not good with words, are you going to make me ask?” he grumbles, reaching into his right pocket. The velvet box feels heavy in his hand and he wants to know that you’ll say yes. He’s had this box for almost six months and each time he believes he’s ready, he backs out last minute. Tonight, despite the voice in his head that says to prepare for the worst, he feels ready- well, as ready as he’s ever been. As he opens his mouth, the box halfway out of his pocket, you interrupt him.

“Well, if you’re not going to, I will”. Your fingers grip the film canister that has found a home in your purse for the last six months. Taking his large left hand in yours, you drop the small container into his open palm, the cylidrical box rattling softly before it settles in his grasp. A second later, a small black box is shoved lightly against your chest. As your fingers wrap around it, your boyfriend looks away, his lips slightly pursed and his brows knotted as a pink flush blooms on his cheeks.

“I’ve, I’ve had this for a while, but I think it would look better on your finger” he stammers, as he opens the canister, shaking out the band you had picked out for him with Tadashi, admiring it for a few moments before sliding it onto his left hand.

“Ar…ar…aren’t you gonna put yours on?”. You haven’t moved, the black box still unopened in your firmly clasped hands. Tears are welling in your eyes, as your gaze shifts between the empty film canister and his left hand. I’ve messed up, he worries, pulse racing as his fingers begin to nervously thumb the new gold band that feels so right on his finger. This isn’t how you wanted him to propose, it’s too cheesy, too flashy, too unromantic, too harsh, too…

“Kei” you whisper, cupping his cheek before smoothening your thumb over his wrinkled brows, “it’s perfect, you’re perfect. I just want you to put it on me”.

And he does, in between kisses and whispers of your name, against the backdrop of all his memories of you.

A/N: First of all I don't usually ever think about Tsukki but I couldn't shake this idea out of my head. In my mind, University Tsukki is still snarky and cold, but it's muted in comparison to who he was at the beginning of high school. I do think he still has a lot of moments of self-doubt and these doubts extend past the volleyball court. Maybe I've got him all wrong and maybe this isn't how you see him but nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this. Second of all, I'm so tired of reading this over and I know I missed a few editing things but please just ignore them. It's hard to edit your own work especially when you've read the same few pages over and over again. psssst. @kagejima (as you requested, here's your tag)

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ichigoromi · 2 years

Note

could i get tsukishima dating headcannons :))))? if you have time ofc ⭐️

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei (timeskip) x fem reader! (she/her)

Genre(s): fluff, romance

Warning(s): none!

a/n - I’m sorry for the late reply to this request! I was busy with school, and I hope you like this headcanon!

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukishima is a very affectionate boyfriend who is a green flag. Despite his nonchalance, he puts a lot of effort into the relationship.

Tsukishima wooed you for six months and became an official couple during the second year of university.

No matter how late or early, he will always be sure to send you to school and fetch you after your lessons.

Dates are a must, two dates per week. Vacation is required annually or twice a year, as requested by Mr Tsukishima Kei;)

You two have been together for about six years and moved in nearly two years ago.

Never in his life did he expect that he would cook, but because of your terrible cooking skills, he took cooking classes for you and him.

He became less snarky, but Tsuki is still sarcastic as ever around his good friends.

At the start of the relationship, you have always initiated skinship with him, but now, he is a skinship monster who constantly clings to you and kisses you all day.

When you two fight, he is the pettiest, but he would still make your food and fetch you from school or work.

One thing that changed when he dated you compared to his exes, he loved to brag about you in front of his teammates/friends and even brought you to meet his family during the first month of dating.

It seems like you might be the first and last girlfriend that they will see.

He loves seeing you lounge on the sofa in his shirt since his clothes practically engulf your figure.

It’s not that much of a secret, but he LOVES being the small spoon.

After you two have graduated from university and started working for almost two years, your parents have been asking about plans for marriage. Even though you two have been together for so long, the talk of marriage was never brought up.

“Kei, do you wanna get married? I know we’re still young, but I just wanna know if it’s in our future.” You asked as you combed through his hair.

His arms were wrapped around your waist as he laid his head on your tummy.

He was quiet for a moment and sat up.

“I thought it was already in our future plan. Do you wanna marry me?” He fiddles with his fingers nervously and avoids eye contact with you.

You cup his face with those tiny hands of yours. (a/n - small compared to Tsuki’s!)

“Of course, I want to marry you! Idiot, why would I not want to marry you? Do you know how much I love you? Probably more than you love me~.” You teased him and kissed him on the lips.

Tsukishima took offence in that last statement.

“How do you know that? I’ll show you how much I love you!” He took hold of your wrists and pinned you below him.

“No backies, okay? You’re going to marry me and stay with me forever.” Tsukishima leans down to kiss you, letting your arms go.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss between you and him.

After a while, you two pull away. Both of you started laughing at each other.

“Yeah, no backies! I’m going to be Mrs Tsukishima!” You confirmed, and he eagerly pulled you into another deep kiss.

🍓's taglist — @wolffmaiden @coconut-dreamz @Gukksen @gukksldp @chloee0x0 @eclairia-monarch

Wanna join my taglist? Join here~!

It's been such a long time since I've written a Tsuki headcanon! I hope you enjoy reading this, and please stay safe out there! Remember to take some time to relax and sleep!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

Reblogs are appreciated!

#anon request done!#hope u like it:)#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei headcanons #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima fluff

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mit5uyya · 1 year

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𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒

𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒

#alternative moodboard #soft moodboard #anime icons #anime moodboard #haikyuu moodboard #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu icons #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi moodboard #yamaguchi icons #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima moodboard #tsukishima icons

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cr4yolaas · 1 month

Text

second best (pt 2) — iwaizumi hajime

notes: at last, the heavily requested part 2 to this fic !! i really hope it met a lot of your guys’ standards — i tried my best to take as much of your requests into account ^_^ i rlly dislike m the flow of this … but hopefully u guys still enjoy LOL

tags: angst → (bittersweet?) fluff, depressive episode (reader), swearing (once), a longgg process of grief and healing and whatnot, alcoholism (only briefly), roommate! tsukishima, best friend! oikawa, tsukishima does NOT have feelings for you, not proofread and quite long

taglist (incl. everyone who asked for a pt 2 !!): @altumsomnum @gennaray @romanticandupsetting @multi-fandom-fanfic

it was tuesday.

a frigid air pierced your limbs and left you to rot away, with the windows shut tight and the door locked. there was no mistakening the dark bags hanging beneath your eyes or the flakes of skin peeling from your bottom lip, nor the soft pleas of your stomach or the iciness of your fingertips. you basked in eternal slumber and silence and darkness and whatnot, save for the ticks of a clock that was 14 minutes behind and the hum of the air conditioning.

you were not frightened in the slightest. the warning signs plastered on your flesh were no great concern, and you could not fathom the idea of having to function again. it was horribly consuming.

with a groan, you released yourself from bed, your legs trembling under the mere weight of the air. you avoided the collections of trash and clothes splayed across the floor, being careful not to disturb the peace that had formed over the past handful of weeks. the sight of the kitchen was much more refreshing.

you were locked in stasis. contrary to the comfort these walls once provided, they now served as a a form of imprisonment, designed to allow the grief and the sorrow and the anger and the guilt to coalesce and spill over. it was terribly suffocating — you wished to escape.

gently, you poured a cup of water (not that you drank more than a sip, anyways). a thought passed your mind.

you needed to leave.

sendai was a home you could not find solace in anymore. gone was the youth encapsulated in the mountaintops and the hidden pathways and the convenience stores, and no longer could you feel at ease when faced with the neighborhoods you familiarized yourself with as a child.

your new apartment was shared with an old face — one you had only seen glances of in high school, notorious for his glasses and upfront attitude. he bore no hesitance when taking you in. instead, he was grateful for your presence, as if splitting the rent with him had taken off his life’s burden off of his shoulders.

he was quick to set ground rules — laundry days were on saturdays, trash needed to be taken out on sundays, the dish washer had to be clear at the end of the day, all groceries were shared, so on and so forth. you weren’t sure if you could keep up.

it took one week for him to actually conversate.

“why did you come back here?” he questioned, with a tone that implied he knew of you for years upon years (which would be false).

you picked at the skin of your lip. “why do you ask?”

“no reason. just curious.”

in a burst of energy, you recounted the tales of your past life, one of love and youth and joy; of the old apartment, of your past hobbies, of hajime. his gaze was so distant that you weren’t sure if he was listening at all.

in return, he expressed brief apologies and turned the story to himself — he discussed his volleyball career, his teammates, how he felt somewhat disconnected from his high school friends. he did not care to mention the exhaustion riddled into the pores on your face nor the weakness of your voice. that was all you needed. a conversation, not comfort.

only an hour later did he remind you of his name — tsukishima kei — and it was only then that you realized you had moved into an apartment without taking any precautions whatsoever. he laughed when you informed him of the situation.

this was not yet a home, but it was a house. and that was sufficient.

a month had passed before tsukishima forced you to get a job. he was clearly not a fool — at some point (you couldn’t tell when), he realized you were paying off your share of the rent with your life savings, which irked him ever so slightly.

“do you plan on moving out and dying on the streets when you run out?” he complained, despite the concern laced in the fluctuations of his voice.

you began working at his former high school coach’s family store. the owner himself was welcoming — he didn’t question your circumstances nor your physical state, and merely mentioned in passing that he was “given a token of appreciation from a prized student.”

and so began the cycle. on weekday mornings, you would depart for work and tsukishima would leave for practice. occasionally, he would pack you lunch (“only because i had leftovers,” he’d say) or leave a can of coffee on the counter for you. you would work at the register until the amalgamation of students died down, and once you were left with an empty store, you would take a break and go on a walk (as requested by your boss). then, you would return in the afternoon to serve the same population of children, handing them their ice cream and their sandwiches and whatnot. when they all disappeared, the coach would let you free and dismiss you with a “good work today, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

returning home was your favorite part of the schedule. a majority of the time, tsukishima arrived later than you, leaving you to your own time until he came home with dinner and a drink.

it was a monotonous cycle, but enjoyable nonetheless.

“i’m cutting off the beer for a month,” tsukishima exclaimed one warm summer night. you left your room to see him collecting unopened bottles and discarding them in a trash bag with little regard. you could only frown.

“those are all going to waste, we haven’t even opened them,” you groaned.

there was no response from the man as he continued to clear the apartment of any alcohol, akin to a parent cleansing their child’s home. before you could protest any further, he shut the door behind him and the crashing of bottles against one another could be heard beside the building.

tsukishima re-entered the apartment with empty hands and furrowed brows. “what’s up with the shitty face?” you asked from the couch.

he clicked his tongue at your comment and bore no response, instead letting his eyes wander to the screen in front of you. the morning news was playing, as usual. and yet, it was so wrong.

the screen flashed to a familiar face, one clad with a slight grin and sweat spread over his skin. his hair had grown slightly and his complexion had darkened, evidence of his labor. but most of all, he looked happy. his eyes screamed with a passion you hadn’t seen before, and despite his haggard appearance, he seemed to be content.

you did not see tsukishima rushing to turn off the television. you did not see the screen turn black, and you did not hear the noise diminish. you did not see tsukishima’s face adjacent to yours.

“hey. let’s go outside,” he muttered before moving to pull you up and out of the house

a delicate breeze washed over you both. the sun began to kiss you goodbye, and the noon crept up in its wake, leaving both of you in the dark.

“he looked so happy,” you whispered. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.”

you watched tsukishima light a cigarette in your peripherals, his lighter evidently battered and marred from heavy use. he made no move to offer one to you. “you’re not doing anything wrong,” he spoke firmly, although you could tell he was struggling to formulate the right combination of words in his head. “he’s just… going along a different path.”

“it should’ve been us on the same path. i feel so stupid. he’s gone on to do such great things, and i… what am i doing?”

tsukishima didn’t push the conversation any further. you were grateful.

a week had passed before tsukishima told you he had gotten you a new job, one deeper in the city. on an early sunday morning, he presented a uniform and badge to you, your name imprinted on both. the effort made you smile.

at some point, a new cycle formed. the museum was a far cry from the run down family store, and tsukishima taught you how to welcome it with an open mind and open arms. he never did mention the exact reason for the new occupation, nor did he tell you why he was so adamant on enforcing routine in your life. nonetheless, you appreciated it.

the mundanity that your new job encapsulated was slightly more enjoyable than that of your former job. exploring the concrete rooms filled with statues and paintings and whatnot was a sufficient way to pass the time. every now and then, you’d catch your roommate detailing a specific sculpture to a curious visitor, the scene contrasting his typical behavior. not that you would ever mention it to him, though.

a new routine was not unwelcome, but it did not feel impactful anymore. you still burned blue in the night, your bones aching with reminiscence over a lost life. your hands and legs still knew tokyo; they still knew the morning commutes and the bustling cafés and the chirping crosswalks and your own home, one that had been so devastatingly haunted by grief. your heart still knew the morning calls and the evening texts and the handfuls upon handfuls of promises made on once solid territory, and yet, you knew to return to it was to betray yourself.

you missed iwaizumi hajime.

rather, you missed the life that you formulated in his presence, opposed to the shambles you had grown comfortable in now that you were back home. tsukishima had carved a clay pot for your worn soul, and yet you could not help but yearn for the comfort and stability and routine you established in a past life.

the soft padding of feet echoed outside your door. soft strings of light streamed under your door as your roommate entered the kitchen, his actions indiscernible as he maneuvered about carefully. you decided to step out to greet him.

a startled tsukishima turned around to face you. “what are you still doing up?” he interrogated, albeit not in offense. “it’s late. we have work tomorrow.”

“but i don’t want to go to work. i want to go home,” you protested. you felt childish all over again — the thirst for selfishness was one that could not escape you, even now. an overwhelming desire to be in control of your own life.

tsukishima furrowed his brows. “to tokyo?” you nodded. “okay… then let’s go to tokyo.” he paid no mind to the slanted smile that transformed your lips, instead opting to turn away and fill up his bottle. “but why?”

“i need to escape,” you sighed, as if releasing a burden that had been lingering for a moment too long. “i need change. i just- i feel so stuck. i need to live.”

he merely hummed in agreement before uttering a comment about your poor sleeping schedule and ushering you back to bed.

tokyo was a city of hopes and dreams and noise. the shift from sendai’s cicada lullabies and whispers in the wind to the incessant chatter and obnoxious roads of the city was significant — any pedestrian would notice the irritation on you and tsukishima’s faces.

the inn he picked was small, yet slightly more comfortable than your current abode. the owners were kind and your neighbors were quiet, save for the occasional drunk couple. it was a life you remembering living, but not one you yearned for any longer.

in the night, you would both visit various attractions and markets and restaurants, with tsukishima insisting on paying for your meals (“as thanks for getting a life,” he argued). for that handful of days, you bore a smile that you weren’t sure would grace your lips ever again, for there was an adolescence in the evening activities that mended the remnants of your spirit. you felt whole.

on the last day, you brought tsukishima to a ramen house nearby the inn and promised to pay for the meal. it was a tuesday, again.

for reasons you could not discover, that appeared to be one of the busiest nights for the establishment — moments after you had settled, a line began to form, and the tables were crowded with families and friend groups and dates alike.

amidst the composition of metropolitans stood a man you wished you didn’t have to see. as if it were punishment, he locked his eyes with yours, the shock in his complimenting your dread.

you watched as he excused himself from his group while ignoring the cheers and shouts about him “shooting his shot.” tsukishima observed in tandem, seemingly reading the situation from a distance despite sitting right across from you.

you noticed the bold athletic trainer embroidered onto his chest, and the fitted red shirt he wore that matched those of his team. beads of sweat compiled on his forehead — you weren’t sure if it was from the density of the room or his exhaustion or anxiety. a small part of you hoped it was the second option.

“hey,” he began. “can- can we speak outside?”

you could not help but oblige.

hajime seemed to have developed an obsession with fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you noticed the frayed strands on a spot that aligned perfectly with his hand, and you nearly laughed.

he coughed into his fist before rambling. “i’m sorry. i know you definitely don’t want to see me, and it’s not wrong of you at all to feel that way, but i just- i’ve thought about you- no, i think about you every day up until now. i know i don’t deserve you at all, and me being here is probably super upsetting, but-“

“hajime.”

the way you called his name seemed to deteriorate him and his principles. you finally felt otherwise.

“i really, really, didn’t want to see you at all. i don’t even want the thought of you to pass my mind. i’ve built a life outside of you and i’m tired of you interrupting it.” you witnessed his heart, mind, and body freeze simultaneously.

“i- i understand that, i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been- i’ve been reflecting a lot recently and i’ve known i was horribly in the wrong and i’m ashamed to have done nothing about it, and i know this sounds really, really dumb but i wish i had just stayed with you for that extra day because- because i don’t think i can go any longer without you now that i have you here, in front of me. could we- can we at least… keep in touch?” he seemed to speak without limitations, akin to a leaking clay pot. he was distressed, evidently. but you no longer saw his face and thought of guilt and love and yearning; you held no space for him.

you shook your head gently. “hajime, i don’t want you in my life anymore. you achieved your dreams, and i’m working on finding mine. that’s how it was meant to be.”

if not for the small lamp above the two of you, you would not have noticed the tears spilling onto his face. you bore no sympathy — with a goodbye and a small wave, you left him in the alley with a heavy heart and saline tears.

to witness him before you had awakened the truth riddled in your sinew and bloodstream: iwaizumi hajime was no longer a necessity. a truth that had cowered away beneath guilt and fragility and shame had uncovered itself, and for once, you breathed a full breath.

oikawa seemed so vibrant on the other side of your screen, the argentinian sun kissing his skin almost perfectly. “…i miss you lots!! i’ll visit soon, maybe, and we can catch up and maybe go get coffee and then debrief and then…” he trailed off with an aloof grin, his words spilling out from your phone and reverberating around the living room. tsukishima stood in the kitchen, the sound of his deliberate chopping and washing contesting oikawa’s voice. “but anyways, i’ll see you soon! byebye!!”

you waved goodbye and hung up, leaving only the noise of your roommate’s cooking. a loud groan left his lips in the midst of his mixing, followed by a complaint about how irritable your friend’s voice was. you could only laugh.

gentle strings of moonlight spilled into the apartment through the kitchen window, the songs of the evening falling upon both of you and your shared comfort. tomorrow was your off day, granting you both an opportunity for an actual meal. tsukishima (begrudgingly) agreed to make your favorite dish, with the request that you’d make his favorite dessert next week.

“thank you for the meal,” you whispered. tonight would consist of good food and a relaxing night, and tomorrow would entail a day of rest and a weekly reset, along with another call with oikawa. with marred hands and a porcelain heart, you had managed at last to craft a solid life — steady health, steady friends, and a steady routine.

you would no longer be second best to anything, and that was sufficient enough.

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haniwrites · 9 months

Text

♡ fuck it i love you

pairings : kei tsukishima/reader

genre : angst ; tw - mentions of blood, a lil gore

spoilers : none !

summary : slowly questioning the relationship you built with tsukishima on lies.

note : uhm uhm hi ?

"dream a little dream of me, make me into something sweet."

you wanted to keep a brave face because you were scared to fall apart so easily in his absence. he was gone but not really, not physically, just mentally. you could feel an invisible barrier grow slowly between you and tsukki. you held yourself together by replaying the bittersweet memories of him always being close to you and reminding you everyday how you were his forever to keep. that time felt so far gone but you revelled in those broken pieces of his previous self which reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. they were not perfect at all. tsukki was always closed off, quiet and maintained his civility in all matters. it was difficult for you to poke and prod around his heart and mind to understand him. your efforts were futile and he was scared to trust you.

you were patient though, unwavering and forthcoming in declaring your fondness for his antics. it was his quietness and determined nature which drew you towards him, like a moth to a flame. their relationship was built upon wistful gazes, those fleeting touches and occasional exchanges of speech. you observed every little thing about him, how the words spilled from the concave spaces between his strawberry soft lips. you had felt the urge to touch them and run your fingers across his warm skin. this game of push and pull went on for days until the day tsukki hurt his hand. you saw the beads of blood drip between his fingers, marring his pale skin, the contrast so bright and flowing across his arm. you had ran towards him, looking at him with worry etched across your face. he refused your help but eventually gave in, grimacing at your stubborn nature but loosening up as he saw you chuckle at his state. you took his palm, feeling the calloused skin against your soft ones. it bought you comfort and peace because this was the closest you will ever get to him. you wanted to burn every part of it inside your mind. his fingers were slender with lithe grace, aiding him in playing volleyball. they always called him thin and bony but you saw it differently. he was agile like a deer with nimble limbs that added to his confident posture. you were enamoured by how pretty this boy was.

so you were not surprised by the all too familiar sweet despondency you felt when you had the epiphany that he perhaps does not feel the same emotions you feel. that, in simple words, he was losing interest. you pondered upon the fast fading liveliness of your relationship with tsukishima, eliciting a grunt from you as you again sat alone for dinner. the rose-coloured romanticism which painted your bond with him was breaking apart, tying you to the shackles of reality. not everything was as flawless as you deemed it to be. your ever emerging need for reassurance and his aloofness towards human sentiments were constantly at war, leaving you two at each other's throats. the distance floated like an entity between you and him, unspoken but almost tangible.

yet it did not stop you from reminiscing the fond but melancholic memories of you and him. you wondered how he kept you pulled in, his magnetic field getting stronger as time passed by. even now, after that fateful revelation, you refused to let the truth swallow you, clinging onto the superficial affection which he sent your way. it was startling to see how his bitter words were contrasting to the softness of his lips. the same lips which kissed you and touched you in places of your ardent reverie. it was slipping through your fingers and you were desperately trying to hold it and keep it close to you. the same man which built your confidence, your belief in your thoughts and coaxing you to love yourself a little more was the one aiming for your heart, breaking down whatever was left and taking back what he had given to you. you couldn't lie anymore because it left an angry bruise on your psyche, infuriating you even more.

but deep down you were just sad. it was a shame how you kept delaying the truth that was handed out to you like a beautifully crafted meal on a glass plate that looked better than it tasted. your broken heart was equivalent to melted ice cream on an awfully hot and uncomfortable day. you had to take the final step instead of twisting and turning the same thoughts inside your head. his sweetness drew you in but his rages burnt your heart harder. you cannot leave, it seemed impossible to break the connection between you and tsukki. he was barely there and you had no way of getting through his heart.

the final blow happened when you caught tsukki eye fucking your bestfriend. how could you not see this coming? the missed dinner dates, coming home late, the distance, everything. you stared at yourself in the mirror so hard you could see your face distort and twist and turn. you felt like you were being dragged across uneven land, the rocks and stones stabbing at your back. you picked at your nails, the skin around them seeing little beads of blood pool around your cuticles. you still loved him didn't you? a monologue playing in your head as you dissected the situation. which side should you pick? if you weren't already so fucked up, this was just an added bonus. another episode, a relapse and you couldn't make another person stay in your life.

tsukki was your entire world. if you could, you would have burnt everyone down to get to him. you felt like you owed him your unconditional love and ask for nothing in return. your identity was lost, you did not speak, you quietly forgave him. this was a masquerade where both of you put on a facade. it seemed better to just let your love burn. it should've been colourful, soft cinders but instead you played a game under this grisly confetti of ashes.

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