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love bombing - iwaizumi hajime

“Love me with all of your heart, or not at all.”

“I don’t even know if I’m able to do that.”

“I know.”

“But I can try” he stopped yelling, if you could call the broken way his voice raised and lowered yelling. The normally smooth, borderline milky way he always spoke was overshadowed by a myriad of voice cracks, all filled with different levels of pain dripping from them. His seawater eyes became rimmed with red--more and more by the second. You supposed, if you thought about it, that this was the most emotion you ever saw him express. A manly man, with more toxic masculinity running through his veins than has ever been expected . “At least I think I can.”

“Have you ever heard of love bombing?”

“Now isn't really the time for a psychology lesson, babe.”

“It's sort of when someone showers you with so much instant affection that your life begins to sort of revolve around them.” The sky was grey. Desolate. Rain threatened and retreated every few minutes, leaving the skin on your arms to ping with a light chill every time a gust of wind blew past. 

“And you think I-”

“You did that to me, I think.” You twisted your fingers in your hand to distract the anger bubbling within your soul. He was oblivious, like always, but you weren’t surprised by it. He wasn't much different than usual. 

“If I did I’m sorr-'' he started walking closer to you, causing you to turn to the side and stare out into the sea. The waves slapped against the shore, all signs of a coming storm. The rain relented less and less, giving the white noise an amplifier. He was easy to interrupt.

“That's not how you apologize.” A beat of silence passed between you two. Silence, save for the squawk of a seagull in the distance. “Hajime.”

You turned to look at him again, meeting his eyes with yours and hoping he understood everything you needed to say. He was always good at reading you, but emotions can cloud even the best intuition. 

“You can’t love me the way I want you to,” you sighed, grabbing his hands with yours and staring at the way the dark lights blend all the shapes together. “And that’s okay. Love someone else better, okay?”

Tears pricked at your eyes just as they had his. And that was it. He didn’t dare say another word, opting to simply watch you walk away. 

i wanna write some simple light hearted fluff but instead i’m thinking about my skts love letters and going absolutely crazy... sorry for the hiatus loves i’m just insane rn

ive been on this hellsite for too long for my longest fic to be shadowbanned please no it aint in the tags 

admiration - tsukishima kei

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

childhood friends rivals to lovers tsukishima x reader

an idea that came to me in a dream, i will be writing in a self indulgent way wishing my long time crush/rival liked me... anyways

Sakusa Kiyoomi,

  It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Seems like just yesterday I was sitting on your bedroom floor, wishing I could buck up the courage to tell you how long I liked you. How infatuated I was with you. I can’t help but think about how different my life would have been if I never told you.

  You made my life better, Kiyo. in every way. You managed to teach me what love was, even through that prickly exterior you have. You were way warmer than anyone could believe, and being able to climb your walls is one of my biggest achievements. With that, though, comes the regret. I regret letting you rebuild those walls again. 

  I’ve never felt as whole as I did when I was with you. The memories of comfort and contentment while we listened to something dripping with rich, gold tones are so very vivid. Every second I spent with you feels more intense than memories of yesterday. It's funny, actually, the impact you had on me. 

  The time I spent with you is one I’ll never forget, even though it was years ago. We may have just been dumb teenagers, but that doesn’t make our love any less important. That doesn’t make us any less real. Our Saturday nights spent wandering that damn park. Our times sneaking around Tokyo, breathing in the streetlights like they were the only real thing on the planet. Our moments of peace; small nose kisses, facemasks at midnight, interlocking our arms like a black and white photo. Oh how I wish they never ended.

  With as much pain as swims through your veins, I’m glad you let people squirm their ways into your life. I'm glad those built-up walls aren’t as high as they used to be--I like to think I had some sort of help in that. 

  I’m glad you're still going headlong into the things you love; it makes me happy to no end to watch you play volleyball. Once, I used knowing you as a reason to meet that Hinata Shoyo, but I’m sure you’ve heard that story. You’re really incredible, Kiyoomi. There's never been a moment where I wasn’t in awe of you, even today. Watching that flick of your wrist will always send a shy smile to my face. 

  Everything I do now, and everything I’ve always done, has been for you. It's completely selfish, I know, but all this time I’ve been waiting for your return to me. There's something enthralling about how you've always been, and I don't think I had enough all those years ago. No matter how different our paths are, I still think we can do it. Besides, it was you who made it abundantly clear you couldn’t fall for someone too similar to you. Volleyball is so much of your life, seems strange that you’d go for someone on the same side of the court. 

  I heard, somewhere, that you were recently married, and I’m writing to tell you how happy I am about that. You truly deserve the world, it's just mildly surprising that your world is the same guy you loathed in highschool. Funny how times change. Maybe I’m still living in the past, but I can't help but wonder how this even happened? You always had so many choice words about him; it feels a little off to see you two kiss on the court after a big win. 

  So, I suppose, this is the end. I’ll be blunt, as you always said you liked that about me: Sakusa Kiyoomi, I hope your husband dies. I cannot imagine a world without you, and I really hope he fucks up. I know you never will. You’re perfect, my sweet Yoomi, and seeing you with that trainwreck of a man… well it feels like I’ve truly lost. 

  You said yourself that I was yours. You said it so many times, I can still hear it ringing in my ears. I’m still yours; I’ll do everything I can for you to be mine too.

  Love, Y/N. Always yours.

vampires night out - matsukawa issei

“College kid like you, with nothin' to do, let's go back to my place and I'll show you a thing or two,” his words lingered in the air like a scented candle. His lips fell into a smirk. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, but they were practically black with the intent behind them. He was always so, well, you didn’t really know. You didn’t really know him. 

He approached you at a bar, six feet of muscle overpowering every little part of your body, and chatted you up for a second. There was nothing particularly cruel about his mannerisms or intent--nothing scary about him--but maybe that was wishful thinking. Besides, he was hot, that was a plus in every regard. His aura was full of holes though, masked with confidence and intensity. 

There was something strange about the man you grew to know as Matsukawa Issei. He was normal, sure, but the things he said in hushed tones seemed to speak louder. You only knew him for one hour before you were in his apartment on the opposite side of town. 

PLAYBOY - PART THREE

– in which second year inarizaki student miya atsumu wants to make a girl jealous. you were his best bet at doing just that.

“Chamomile? I don’t want you to be too tired though.”

“Do you have any cranberry? I like putting a lot of sugar in it so it just tastes like juice.” Atsumu’s flirtatious nature wore down to its bare essentials: wide smiles, nonsensical behavior, and base level goodness. 

“I don’t think that’s,” you paused, wondering how this all happened. Wondering why he was in your home, sitting at a kitchen table, tapping his fingers insistently on the wooden tabletop. Wondering how the last fifteen minutes even came to be. “Sure, okay.”