Overview

writing and posting fic on the internet is like working at a horribly managed strip club where nobody is really watching the performers but instead drinking and talking amongst themselves but then sometimes you’ll have regulars and they holler when you shimmy and that makes everything alright to me

messenger [tsukishima kei]

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

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

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

word count: 4kei

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

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

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

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

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

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

it means something...right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yamaguchi-san?"

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

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

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

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

"me? date him? i could never!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the pink envelope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"well?" you ask, brow arching up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you bite your lip, too scared to say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and tsukishima kei does what tsukishima kei does best.

he flicks your forehead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this time, you reach up and flick his forehead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yes," you breathe, "please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for now, mission accomplished.

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

A HOUSE THAT SMELLS LIKE HOME. | gojo x reader. | 2k words

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As you all know. I work at an elementary school. And for Christmas, a bunch of kids got tamagotchis. Well. One girl fucking FORGOT her tamagotchi at school. And I saw it and was like oh fuck. So I took it home for the weekend and now am saddled with the responsibility of keeping it alive until Monday afternoon when I see her again.

when you know exactly how you want a scene to go but as soon as you sit down to write it you are suddenly staring at some of the worst sentences mankind has ever strung together.

only | tooru oikawa

pairing: oikawa x reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 2.0k

i'm pretty sure inez is on hiatus so i won't tag her but this was for her :D

“okay,” you nod, laughter leaving your lips as you turn to your friend.

oikawa’s gaze shifts to you at your place around the small fire, “what’s up?”

“you know what i regret about my final year in high school?”

he quirks a brow, “what?”

“that i never got to fall in love.”

a beat of silence follows your words, the fireplace feeling as warm as ever as the two of you on the rooftop of your apartment building. despite summer approaching faster than ever, there was still a chill in the night air, one that made you pull the small blanket draped over your figure closer.

it’s your last week of school, and you and oikawa always had this tradition of sitting on the rooftop, turning on the small fireplace, and just talking. with your busy schedules, especially around the end of the school year, it grew hard for you to see each other. so during your first year, the two of you made a promise to return to the rooftop before your final week of school, to light the fireplace no one else in the apartment building seemed to use and to just talk.

but now it’s your last week ever of high school, the last time you and oikawa would venture up to this rooftop together.

there’s a sense of nostalgia to it, the idea that you might never come back up here with him, the thought that this fireplace would go back to normal and be completely untouched by the other residents in the building. it reminds you a bit too much of your past few years of high school, and what a ride they were.

the boy meets your eyes once more from his place on the adjacent couch, a blanket of his own wrapping his figure and a can of soda in his hand. “what do you mean?”

“it’s just,” you start, eyes flickering towards the calm flames in front of you, “there’s this idea of the perfect high school experience, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect prom date, and the perfect relationship,” you explain. “the two of you go to dinner every week and spend nights at each other’s houses and go on these perfect dates and share umbrellas when its raining.”

“you know that’s just in movies right?” oikawa cuts in.

“i know,” you nod with a small sigh, “most of high school is already romanticized as it is. but,” you pause. “i just wish i got to experience even the real life version of high school love.”

“it’s really nothing special,” oikawa shrugs, taking a sip from his soda can.

“what?” you tease. “your one girlfriend did that much of a number on you?”

“okay enough about her,” he waves off, rolling his eyes as he leans back into his chair. “you and iwa do nothing but tease me when it comes to her.”

“it’s kind of funny in my head,” you think. “you jumped into a relationship with her incredibly quick. you only knew her for what? a month?”

he nods wordlessly.

after all, he’s known you much longer.

“that’s not a lot,” you hum. “i always thought you were the type to approach love rather cautiously.”

oikawa quirks a brow at your words, “really?” you nod. “interesting,” he hums, “how so?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “you just seem like the type.”

“what?” he laughs, “you’re just basing this off of some kind of vibe you’re getting?”

“yeah, pretty much,” you mumble. “i mean you’ve got this ego that hides how you truly feel, i kind of assumed it would be the same towards love ya know? like walls hiding away your heart from the one person you truly wanted to give it to.”

and that leaves him at a loss for words.

“sorry,” you mumble, “hit a little too close to home?”

“what do you think?” he questions with an annoyed sigh, but you know there’s no malice behind his words. you knew him better than most, and that involved being quite familiar with the side of him he often hid from others.

“why’d you even date her anyway?” you hum, leaning back into the small chair, gaze still locked on the fire. “i mean you never really brought her up to iwaizumi and i until after you got together.”

“for the same reason why you have regrets,” he lies.

“because you wanted to experience high school love?” you question.

he nods, knowing that if he said anything you’d see right through him. you were the only person that truly could.

his ex’s confession just seemed to line up with when he got supposedly friendzoned by you. he still remembers what you said to iwaizumi that day. platonic soulmate, you called him, the words seemed to ring through his head to this day. he was your platonic soulmate.

but oikawa couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just be your soulmate.

after all, he’d done his best to give you all of the high school experience that you could ask for. you both hung out more often than not, you spent more nights at his house than you probably did at yours, he was your date for dances, even coming up with elaborate posters just to make you smile.

that word platonic just seemed to mock him, it’s a word he just wanted to get rid of it completely from your description of him. you only saw him as a friend, and nothing more. he hoped his ex could help him move on, yet all she did was make him feel worse.

“the worst part of it though was that she dumped me,” he sighs.

“all because of volleyball too,” you hum before looking at him. “i mean she had to have known that you’d spend more time playing volleyball,” you reason. “you’re literally team captain and the star player.”

he shakes his head, “definitely not the star player,” he rather honestly retorts.

“oh shut up, you literally are,” you ignore. “that reasoning though was just...odd.”

that reasoning was a lie.

oikawa told his ex about his feelings for you, and his apology signified the end of the relationship. because even after a couple months of being with someone else, even after a couple months of going on dates, bringing flowers, and loving someone else, he still couldn’t help but think about you. but there was no way he was going to tell you that. so he lied, he lied to the one person who could supposedly see through him.

except you had yet to do so when it came to this.

“it was,” he sighs. “but what can you do? the past is in the past.”

“and we have nothing but the future ahead of us,” you finish before meeting the boy’s gaze, “what about you? have any regrets?”

of course he does.

oikawa nods rather nonchalantly, “i do.”

“do share,” you hum. “but only if you want to of course.”

“i wish i went to nationals at least once,” he mumbles.

“i knew you’d say that,” you sigh. “do you regret going to school here?”

his eyes widen, “what? no, absolutely not,” he answers. “i love it here, it’s where iwa is, it’s where my team is.”

it’s where you are.

and the fact that he leaves that out is another regret he adds to his list.

“i see,” you hum. “it would’ve been nice to watch you guys play at nationals.”

he quirks a brow, “you’d go?”

“of course i would,” you nod. “i mean it’s a free trip to tokyo right?” you laugh.

and oikawa swears it’s music to his ears.

“any more regrets?” he asks you. “you gotta get it all out there before it’s too late right?”

“i have a few,” you hum.

and he hopes that one of them has something to do with him.

after all, he’s running out of time with you, and he still has a couple more things to say to you.

“i wish i asked that guy out myself my first year,” you list. “apparently he liked me back?”

“he did?” oikawa questions a bit louder than he’d like.

“he did,” you smile. “maybe he could’ve been my high school romance.” there’s a beat of silence before you continue. “i wish i didn’t spend all my time at home and went out more, i wish i didn’t ruin things with that one girl, i wish i actually spoke to my friend and fixed things instead of leaving him behind, i wish-”

there are tears in your eyes before you can even realize that you’re rambling, unpacking the baggage you had yet to deal with.

and oikawa’s watching you unravel before his eyes, each “i wish,” sending a chill of his own down his spine.

“i wish,” you sniffle. “i wish i got to see my uncle one more time before he died. i wish i didn’t start that fight with my friend. i wish i didn’t lose as many friends as i did,” you quickly wipe the tears in your eyes, watching oikawa’s face fall at the sight of your tears.

he’s rushing instantly to your side sitting down next to you, the pads of his fingers wipe away your tears. your head rests on his shoulder and his arm instantly goes to your back, pulling you a bit closer.

“i wish,” your voice is soft, it’s shakes and trembles and oikawa swears his heart shatters.

“i wish i told you i love you.”

and now there’s a knot in his stomach.

“i wish i told you sooner.”

it tightens.

and there’s a silence that lingers, one filled with your soft sniffles and the crackling of the fire next to you as oikawa rubs circles into your back. your head still rests on his shoulder, breath a bit more steady as your tears slowly stop, relief washing over you at the fact that you didn’t need to feel anymore regret towards that last item on your list.

you’ve been terrified of telling him for years, constantly watching him being adored by fangirls and wishing you could measure up. it’s quite pathetic, you think to yourself, that you did nothing but pine for him all these years yet still wish for that high school romance.

if you said something, it could’ve happened.

and that realization only adds salt to the wound.

oikawa’s voice is soft when it breaks the silence.

“you wanna know what i regret?”

your voice is barely above a whisper, “what?”

“i wish i told you that i love you too.”

and his words instantly get your attention.

you pull yourself off his shoulder, “you do?”

“it’s my biggest regret,” he nods, a soft smile on his lips. “although, i don’t think we need to regret it too much now.”

“we have one week left,” you mumble.

“that’s more than enough time for us,” he answers, the distance between you both slowly decreasing. “one week to have your high school romance.”

and a small laugh from you follows his words as oikawa closes the gap, his lips finally meeting yours. the sounds of the crackling fire and your racing heartbeat rang through your ears as you cupped oikawa’s cheek, not missing how he leaned in impossibly closer to you. there’s a laugh that leaves his lips as you two pull away, resting your forehead against yours, feeling as if you’re on cloud nine.

it’s euphoric.

he’s euphoric.

your head rests on his shoulder, “now how long have we been regretting this?” you tease.

“longer than you’ll ever know,” he answers. “but it’s okay, now we’re just making up for lost time.”

it’s your last week of high school, the last time you and oikawa would ever be on this roof together following the tradition you’ve kept for the past three years. but this time, as you looked into the fire once more with his arm over your shoulder, there’s no regret in your system. no “i wish” or “what ifs” clouding your mind. instead, there’s hope, hope now that your feelings are finally out there, hope because he feels the same way as you.

hope that this would be the love you always wanted.

thank u so so much for reading!! reblogs are always appreciated <33

Rich boy! gojo getting all pouty because some guy hits on you at an event he takes you to and now you have a 6 foot GIANT leaning all his weight over you as he whines about not getting attention

[ WOUNDED PRIDE ] GOJO SATORU.

“satoru, you’re still pouting,” you hum, poking his cheek as he huffs.

“‘m not,” gojo mumbles, bitterly turning his head away from you. you can hear geto’s amused chuckle from the distance, making your boyfriend growl out a shut up, suguru under his breath, and because you’re supportive, you hide your own laugh.

“baby, he’s gone,” you cup his cheeks, grinning as he stubbornly refuses to meet your eyes, “you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“jealous?” he pulls away from you like you’ve insulted him—like the idea is simply too crazy to hear out loud, “me? jealous? what gives you that idea?”

“toru,” you snort, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious.”

“neither could you,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you, “you were trying to make me mad.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with faux innocence, making his arms cross.

and now his lips are even further jutted in a pout, though you know saying something will only make him more upset, so you choose to keep your mouth shut for now. but gojo can still sense your amusement, glaring at you before turning his head away with a petulant hmph.

“flirting with other men is considered cheating, you know.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you giggle, “i was just making friends. like you told me to.”

“making friends doesn’t include zenin naoya,” gojo glares at you, prompting out a supportive yeah, he sucks from geto. gojo nods, pointing a thumb at geto in agreement, making you roll your eyes.

“you never told me you hated him,” you defend, “but i wasn’t trying to make you mad,” you add softly, cupping his cheeks again.

“yeah you were,” he mumbles bitterly. his cheeks are squeezed together by your palms, and his voice is slightly whiny—and suddenly, you think you fall in love all over again.

“i’m sorry, toru,” you smile gently, “i just thought you looked cute all pouty. i didn’t wanna make you mad.”

“i wasn’t pouting,” he grumbles, “i don’t pout. i’m a man.”

“you cry during movies,” geto points out—and you’re glad there’s no wine in your vicinity, otherwise you think gojo might splash it on his best friend’s crisp, white button down. and you don’t think his father would take kindly to the scene—which would only further complicate things.

“i’m a man with a heart,” gojo scowls, “that’s why i’m not single.”

“okay,” you break up the bickering, distracting gojo with a kiss to his cheek—he grins at the gesture, giving you one in return even though he’s still slightly upset with you (though he won’t admit it.)

satoru gojo is not a jealous man.

that’s what he’ll tell you, at least—but you know better. you can see it in the way his lips alternate back and forth from a tiny pout to an irritated scowl, in the way his eyebrows furrow with irritation, in the way he huffs and tries to act like he doesn’t care when suguru elbows him in amusement.

and it’s not as though you enjoy attention from…whoever it was you were talking to (apparently zenin naoya according to gojo), but there’s just a small part of you that’s lightly amused. gojo is like a magnet—the girls flock to him left and right like a slice of bread left out for the crows to fight for. you’re used to it by now, have learned to ignore the slight creep of doubt and simply ignore the jealous glares sent your way as you take his hand.

but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the change of pace every once in a while—the rare turn of tables that have him irritated instead of you.

naoya is a little too entitled for your taste. there’s too much expensive cologne sprayed on and you’re sure if he could without seeming tacky, he’d have left the tag on his suit to show its brand new. that’s the case with all rich people, you think, too busy watering the roots to pull for the weeds.

you don’t particularly enjoy talking to him—but you amuse yourself all the same. he’s far too cocky when he asks are you an intern for the gojo’s? i haven’t seen you before—

and before you can answer, you hear a familiar voice spit: actually, they’re my date. you don’t even hear gojo come up behind you, and you know as soon as his arm wraps around your waist, your stuck to his side for the rest of the night whether you like it or not.

“don’t talk to naoya he sucks,” gojo mutters. you nod, agreeing with him to console the bitterly wounded pride he seems to be sporting.

“he’s the worst,” you agree, “and his cologne smells gross.”

“i have that cologne,” he gasps, “it’s my favorite. you hate it?”

“no,” you say quickly, “it smells nice on you. everything smells nice on you.” geto snorts, and you shoot him a warning glance before he can make the situation worse.

gojo doesn’t look convinced—eyes narrowed and lips curled in that soft pout of his when he doesn’t get his way. it’s a bit spoiled, just a little bratty in its own right, but makes you melt all the same, pinching his cheek gently as you chuckle.

“if i were you,” geto turns to you, “i’d talk to naoya more. it might humble satoru just a little—”

“if i were you, i’d shut up before getting punched—”

“you wouldn’t land a punch on me if you tried—”

“you don’t know that—”

“actually i do because you can’t fight for shit—”

“i’m an excellent fighter—”

“alright,” you hiss, glancing at the few heads that have turned to watch the bickering between gojo and geto, making you glare at them in slight embarrassment.

“baby,” gojo whines, “tell him i can fight.”

and because his ego has been wounded one too many times tonight, you let him slump onto you, ignoring the heavy weight as you sigh and wrap your arms around him. you’re sure quite a few people are staring by now—but you suppose people always stare when you date someone like gojo.

“you could totally fight naoya,” you agree. you think you’ve finally said something right—because he seems to brighten at your words.

“i could, couldn’t i?”

“yes,” you nod, “and you smell better. and you have better hair.”

“and i’m cuter.”

“of course,” you sigh, eyeing geto for help. but he grins, sends you a small wave with mischief in his expression as he wanders off—leaving you all alone to nurse gojo’s ego back to full health.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

This is not from your fic but could you do a small scenario of Nanami interacting with his baby? I swear those dad!Nanami headcanons made me so soft

okay i was going to write a scenario with a baby baby but then this kinda hit me and i had to go with it instead!

wc is ~1k bc i'm down bad for dad!nanami

gn!reader, unnamed daughter, hint of angst but mostly fluff (i think)

"Tadaima!" you call, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and nudging them to the side. They splay out beside Nanami's shoes, neatly tucked away.

There's no patter of little feet scrambling to the genkan. No soft, pleased rumble of okaeri as louder footsteps follow in their wake. You fish out your phone.

Nanami picks up on the second ring, his stoic greeting softened by the way it sounds when he calls you sweetheart.

"Where'd you go?" you ask.

He sighs. "I left a note."

"I didn't read it."

"Clearly," he says, but his voice is warm, all summer honey. "We're at the park. We'll head home in a few minutes."

"What, I don't get to have fun at the park?"

He sighs again, heavier this time. You bite down on your laugh. "Come join us, then," he says.

"I'll be there in just a minute."

He pauses. "She wanted to go to Hanegi."

"You're a sucker," you tell him, slipping your shoes back on.

"I'm aware."

"I'll be there in twenty, then."

He says something muffled. You don't need to hear the words to know he's talking to your daughter; it's in his voice, affection stitched quiet into his tone, a patchwork quilt of love sewn soft on his tongue. She chatters back at him, her voice a burbling spring brook.

"Okay," Nanami says distantly, and then he's clear again as he says, monotone: "Apparently twenty minutes is too long. You're supposed to walk faster."

You snort. "I'll do my best. See you soon."

"See you soon, sweetheart."

You walk to Hanegi, passing by the park just down your street—small but serviceable, the paths to the playground lined with overflowing flowers, their petals crinkled at the edges, summer's last stand.

It's easy to find them when you arrive; the playground has begun to empty as it gets later. You pause for a moment and just watch.

Nanami's on one knee, his broad body dwarfing your daughter. She wiggles in place as he ties her shoe, his big hands deft. You can hear the rumble of his voice as he murmurs to her, but the words are lost in the space between you.

He checks her other shoe before pulling back. Your daughter reaches out and pats him on the cheek with a chubby hand. He catches it and presses a little kiss against her palm before getting to his feet.

He watches her run back to a little circle of children. Nanami can be difficult to read at the best of times, but what sweeps over his face now is stark. It's gone within a breath, but you think you'll never forget it.

"Hi," you say, sidling up to him as he leans down to brush off his knee. "I told you we should get the velcro shoes."

He rolls his eyes. "Then she'll never learn," he says, straightening up and pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Is she learning if you're doing it for her?"

He pinches at your side. Your yelp is half laughter, and he moves out of the way without looking when you try to pinch him back. But then his hand is on your hip, and you lean into the warmth of him. Across the way, your daughter shrieks out a laugh as she chases another little girl.

"When do you leave?" you ask quietly.

His fingers flex on your hip. "Tomorrow morning."

You let out a soft breath. "Okay," you say.

The two of you watch your daughter play—calling out to her at times, until Nanami is roped into pushing her on the swing, with her indifferent to your pout when she shuts down your defense of your pushes in comparison to his—until the promise of night is settling over the horizon.

Nanami calls her name. She comes trotting over, hair mussed and eyes bright. He leans down to take her hand for the walk home, his hand engulfing her tiny one.

You've just made it out of the park when she starts dragging her feet. "Daddy," she says, tugging at his hand. "'M tired."

Nanami raises a brow. "If you want something, you should ask politely," he says, but he's already bending down to sweep her up. He perches her on his hip, cradles her small form to him with excruciating delicacy.

Sucker, you mouth at him. He ignores you.

"Sorry," she grumbles, burying her face into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair. It doesn't quite hide the quirk of his lips, and the fondness tucked secret into that small smile swells in you, washes over you like the tide, an endless sea too vast for your body.

"Kento," you say suddenly, breathlessly. "Let's go to the okonomiyaki stall for dinner."

Your daughter perks up immediately, turning her small face towards him, a flower seeking sun.

Nanami glances at you. "We'd be out past her bedtime."

"I know."

He considers you for a moment, his dark eyes knowing. They're mesmerizing in the quickly fading sunlight. "Alright," he says.

Your daughter giggles with delight.

"What do you want in yours?" he asks her, already heading in the direction of the stall, his hand warm at the small of your back, keeping you close.

You barely hear her reply. You're too busy watching them, committing them to memory, from the glint of Nanami's golden hair to the delicate brush of his fingers on her cheeks to the way her cheeks puff out as she squirms.

He pauses for a moment to press his forehead against hers, whispering something too quiet for you to catch. She beams at him, and he smiles back, his fingers tracing little patterns against you, and it feels like coming home.