strwbrryeyes

[strwbrryeyes]

hello sorry for being inactive right after i said i was going to be active i was trying not to go insane with life post college bc idk what to dow ith my life

[strwbrryeyes]

ok srry been busy again

had my grad party, been driving more, babysat my nephew, busy busy bee

ill be back to writing this weekend

[strwbrryeyes]

my relationship is crumbling (no its not im being negative and dramatic) i will be writing angst tonight!

[strwbrryeyes]

༊·˚ Dragons, ninjas, and notes

⟡ featuring: yaku morisuke

⟡ cw: none question mark?

⟡ a/n: ima be honest i never really paid attentiong to yaku's character and personality so im sorry if i missed the mark </3 also i hope anon sees this i was stupid and answered all my anons.

You remember the first boy you ever liked.

He was small, scrappy, always missing one sock, and somehow always bleeding from somewhere. He threw himself into every game like it was war, and he defended you like it actually was.

Yaku Morisuke. Yaku. You never called him that, not even once. He was just Mori to you. Your best friend, your emergency pudding stash, your secret code pen pal.

Every day during lunch, you’d sneak letters into each other’s cubbies. Paper cranes with jokes inside, "I dare you to steal a second milk" challenges.

You still have the last one he gave you. You found it again when you were cleaning out an old box from elementary school. The paper’s a little yellow now, creased at the corners, but you remember exactly what it said.

"Don’t forget me.

If you do, I’ll make you remember.”

You were ten when you moved away. You promised to keep writing. You even wrote the first letter from your new house but it never got sent. Life got loud. Days turned into months, months into years, and somehow, he faded.

Not entirely. Never entirely.

By the time the training camp rolls around, you’ve got more than enough to focus on. As Karasuno’s manager, your job is to keep the boys hydrated, sane, and not broken. A full-time role, that makes you question life every so often these days.

You walk into the gym on the first day with your clipboard under your arm and your eyes scanning the sea of uniforms. Fukurodani, Ubugawa, Karasuno, Shinzen, and Nekoma, where it is hosted. You introduce yourself to any other managers there are and the captains of the other teams.

Your gaze skips across the court, eyes pausing on someone just a little too familiar.

Short. Eyes that look like they never stop shining . Light brown hair short but still a bit messy. He’s in the middle of chewing out a silver haired teammate who looks like he’s heard it all before. His voice cuts clean through the noise and all you can think about is how it bring you nostalgia for some weird reason. And there’s no way it is because of the practice match Karasuno had with Nekoma earlier this year, no, you were sick then. So what is it? Who is it?

When he turns, just for a second, his eyes meet yours and it’s like all the fears in his head have stopped working. There’s a flicker of something behind his expression. Recognition? Confusion? Hopefulness?

You’re not sure but you don’t dwell on it. You’ve got a dozen boys to look after, a list of supplies to double check, and a migraine slowly forming behind your eyes as you watch Kageyama and Hinata start yet another pity argument with Tsukishima.

-

It’s not until the third day of camp that it happens.

You’re walking backward across the court, shouting at Hinata to please stretch like a normal human and not an animal, when you turn and slam directly into someone.

Your clipboard hits the ground. You stumble. The person steadies you with a hand on your arm.

"Ah crap- sorry, I wasn’t-"

Your words freeze in your throat.

He’s standing right in front of you. Shock written across his face like he’s seen a ghost.

"It is you...[name]?"

You blink. Confusion heightening even more. "Wait...what?"

"You lived in Tokyo? You moved away when you were ten?"

The voice. The eyes. The scowl that looks more like a pout when he’s flustered.

t’s all coming back to you.

"Mori?"

He lets out something between a laugh and a breath. "Holy crap. It’s really you."

The smile that breaks across your face is one you haven’t smiled like in ages, since you were 10. It’s like your chest suddenly remembers what it’s been missing.

"You got shorter," you say, because it feels safer than I missed you even though he’s still a few inches taller than you.

"I didn’t get shorter," he snaps, flustered in a way that warms your heart. "You just got taller."

"Mhm sure." you chuckled nodding your head sarcastically.

He glares. But it’s soft around the edges. Nothing serious. 

And just like that, the years fall away.

-

You don’t start spending time together immediately.

It’s a slow process. A bottle of water handed off mid-practice as you help Nekoma a bit due to their lack of managers. An exchange of eye-rolls and laughs when Lev knocks over yet another cart. You find yourself lingering near him during warmups whenever your own team doesn’t need you. You catch him glancing at you when you’re talking to the Karasuno guys. The shift is subtle but welcomed.

One afternoon, you’re helping set down mats for floor drills. Yaku’s on the other side of the gym, but then he’s suddenly crouching beside you, pulling the other side of the matl like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"You still draw those weird ninja stick figures?" he asks without looking up.

Your hands pause mid pull. "You still remember those?"

"I still have some of those."

You blink. "Seriously?"

"They were funny." he says nonchalantly but still in a way that makes you laugh a little.

You glance sideways. He’s not looking at you, but there’s a little flush creeping up the side of his neck.

"You drew me as a dragon once," he adds. "Breathing fire and kicking people."

"You said dragons were cool. I was trying to impress you."

He huffs a laugh. "Although it didn’t even completely look like a dragon," he paused before smirking “It still worked.” 

Your chest does a weird fluttery thing. You try not to read into it. You fail.

-

Late one night, after everyone’s finally crashed and the coaches need help reorganizing the gear room, you volunteer. It’s quiet. Peaceful, even. Just what you needed after a long few days.

You’re stacking clipboards when Yaku steps in, hauling a crate of cones under one arm.

"They make you do this too?" you ask.

"Lev broke a net stand. This is my punishment for not watching over him as Kuroo put it."

“Still taking the blame…or getting blamed I guess,” you laugh softly. "Some things never change."

He sets the crate down. Doesn’t move away. There’s a pause. It’s not awkward, but calming.

"I tried looking for you," he says suddenly. "After you moved."

You freeze.

"I didn’t know your last name. I tried checking online once or twice. Even thought about sending a letter to the school to pass on. But..." He trails off. "I thought maybe it was one of those things you remember wrong. Like a dream. Or a stupid vague kid memory."

You set your clipboard down.

"I thought about you too," you say. "More than I expected to. I just... didn’t know where to start."

He finally looks at you. Really looks.

"You kept it, didn’t you?" he asks quietly.

You know exactly what he means. "I did."

You take a step closer.

"I meant it, you know," he says. "What I wrote. 'If you forget, I’ll make you remember.'"

Your heart aches with that nostalgic feeling you felt when first saw him at the beginning of training camp.

"And you did." you whisper, a soft smile making its way onto your face.

There’s a beat of silence, thick and warm.

"Maybe we should start writing letters again," he says, light but careful. "Or, you know... texting. Digitally advanced notes."

You smile. "You’re such a nerd."

"But you’ll text me?"

You nod. "I will."

He hesitates. Then steps in close. Leaning his forehead against yours, a foreign feeling but one you never want to forget. Just like you never want to forget him. It feels like coming home.

"See you soon?" he murmurs.

"Don’t make me forget again," you say in a jokingly stern voice.

"I won’t let you."

-

Later that night, when you’re packing up your bag, you find a note slipped inside. It’s folded the same way they used to be. Familiar, clumsy folds. Paper lined with little smudges where his fingers probably pressed too hard.

You unfold it.

It says:

"I promise I’m still an awesome dragon. Call me.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

P.S. I missed you."

[strwbrryeyes]

helooo i just saw your one year event and im so excited >< im thinking of suna rintarou, and we met through meet cute (basically strangers to friends to lovers)🙈🙈

that someone can be a music artist if it fits your idea 👀👀 but it’s ok if it’s not 🫶🏻🫶🏻

༊·˚ Muse

⟡ featuring: suna rintarou

⟡ cw: angst if you squint real hard at the beginning bc reader was going through it

⟡ a/n: they are both big dorks

The only reason you're out at nearly midnight on a Wednesday is because you’ve hit the kind of rock bottom that involves eating sandwich bread with ketchup and pretending it's some sort of godsend meal. Your fridge holds half an eaten, expired milk, and a single, pitiful slice of cheese. So as much as you'd love to be in your bed right now, the corner store a few blocks away feels like your last hope. It been a tough couple of weeks with being dumped by your long-term boyfriend and having awful experiences with management lately but the least you can do is buy some food to get you through the next two days before you can officially go grocer shopping the following Saturday.

The night air is damp and cool, the kind that clings to your clothes and makes your cheeks sting just a little. Streetlights flicker above you as you cross to the 24/7 convenience store, its glowing sign humming like it’s tired too. Through the glass, everything inside is lit up by the white fluorescent lights, but from the outside, it almost looks gentle like it was oddly calming..

You push open the door, greeted by a soft chime and the scent of long put out cigarettes and cleaning fluid. The cashier barely looks up from his phone but you can’t blame him, who would want to be working at this hour? You grab a basket and head toward the snack aisle, rubbing your hands together for warmth.

As you turn the corner into the ramen section, something slips from your hoodie pocket. A page falls to the floor, landing near the feet of a guy crouched low in front of the instant noodles.

“Hey,” he says, reaching down to grab it before you can react. “You dropped this.”

He hands the crumpled sheet of notepad paper. The lyrics to the song you scrapped moments before leaving your apartment to go to the convenience store. Entire scratched out choruses in your messy handwriting, a half finished song you weren’t even sure was salvageable.

“Oh,” you mumble, quickly smoothing it out and folding it. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t stare too long, just gives a small tilt of his head. “You a songwriter?”

You meet his eyes, surprised by how relaxed he sounds. “That obvious?”

“Not until that fell out,” he says, nodding to your now folded page. “But it checks out. You’ve got the distracted genius look.”

You let out a half-laugh and shake your head. “It’s just a chorus that won’t cooperate.”

“Looks like it’s got potential though,” he replies, like it’s a fact, not a compliment. “If the bridge doesn’t betray you.”

Your eyebrows lift. “You know about how bridges are the death of every songwriter?”

He smirks. “I know enough to know they’re evil.”

There’s a pause, long enough for your gaze to flick down to the miso cup in his hand. He’s already dropped another one into his basket, glancing at your ‘spicy’ chicken soup selection with mild amusement.

“That one’s dangerous,” he says, nodding toward your cup.

You glance down. “It���s not even that spicy.”

“I didn’t say it was spicy. I said it’s dangerous. You eat that, next thing you know you’re crying on the floor and texting someone you shouldn’t.” At this point it sounds like he’s describing alcohol but you brush it off because after all it is midnight no one is in their right state of mind.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You sound like you’ve been through it.”

That earns a small, crooked smile. He stands up showing off his tall but fit frame, and slightly messy hair that looks like he’d just gotten out of bed. His hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, revealing faint bruises and a small scratch on his forearm.

He holds out a hand. “Suna.”

You hesitate a moment, then shake it. His grip is loose and warm, fingers a little calloused.

“[name].”

He nods once, eyes gleaming. “Cool.”

And then he turns and walks off toward the drinks without another word. Honestly, it caught you off guard but once again, you’re tired and you don’t expect to see him again anyway.

But about a week later (at midnight again because god forbid you sleep at a decent time), you’re in line at the sandwich shop two blocks from your apartment, phone in hand, mentally preparing to eat a an overpriced grilled cheese in your bathtub while you contemplate life. You hear a slightly familiar voice from two people behind you that makes you glance over your shoulder.

“You again.”

There he is. Hoodie, joggers, that same annoyingly calm expression. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks like he just wandered in without a plan.

“Don’t tell me you followed me here,” you say as you let those two people in between you cut you in line to be able tot alk to him without them being disturbed.

“Maybe I did,” he replies, one eyebrow raised. “Or maybe it’s fate.”

“Or maybe you just like neon lights and greasy food.”

“Both things can be true.” 

You end up eating your sandwiches on the curb outside. The pavement is still a bit chilly from the fall air, and the city buzzes around you, but in your little bubble of late night conversation, everything else seems to blur. He tells you he plays volleyball professionally, which makes your eyebrows shoot up until he mentions he’s a middle blocker. That part makes sense. The height, the bruises, the way he moves like he’s used to reacting fast and thinking faster.

“So you just get in people’s way for a living?” you tease, taking another bite of your grilled cheese.

He nods like he’s proud. “Exactly.”

You text after that. It starts slow. Memes, random photos, half-baked jokes. You send him snippets of lyrics or chords you’re working on, asking him for feedback. He sends you videos of himself trying to cook and burning the rice every time. You don’t expect him to pay attention to the things you share, but he always seems to catch the little details. And you pay attention to everything he does and says.

“That second verse?” he texts one night after you send him a voice memo. “That line’s gonna wreck someone in the middle of a park while they’re on their run.” It makes your chest tighten, even though you laugh.

Eventually the texts turn to calls, and the calls turn into visits. He comes by your place on his off days with new snacks and weird drinks he found. He lays down on your couch like he belongs there, always poking through your playlists and journals with your songs without asking. He listens to you work, doesn’t talk much while you record or write, but his presence is steady and comforting.

One afternoon, while you’re adjusting mic levels and quietly humming through a new melody, you notice him watching you. Not in a judgmental way, not even curious. Just watching, like he’s memorizing you in real time.

“You always do that thing with your nose when you mess up,” he says finally, voice low.

You glance over with a confused look on your face. “What thing?”

“You scrunch it. Like someone just told you your song was bad.”

You laugh and toss a pencil at him, which he catches without looking.

“Well is it bad?.”

“No, it’s a good song…even when you mess it up” He grins, but his voice is warm.

Your songs start sounding a little like him. Not literally, but you catch pieces of him in them. Quiet notes between the verses, lines you wouldn’t have written without his voice in your head. You don’t bring it up, and he doesn’t mention it either, but you think he knows that somewhere along the lines, he’s affected not only your writing, but your life. And you’ve changed his.

The first time he comes to one of your shows, he stays in the back, hood up and hands in his pockets. You spot him midsong and nearly miss your cue. He just lifts his chin slightly when your eyes meet, like he’s telling you to keep going.

Later, once the room empties and the buzz of performing settles into your bones, you find him waiting outside, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand.

“You changed the second verse,” he says casually.

“You remember the original?”

He nods. “I liked it. Sounded like something you wrote at 3am while spiraling.”

“It was something i wrote at 3am while spiraling…you were there .” You say letting out a dry chuckle.

“Keep it next time.”

You don’t kiss him that night, but the thought and desire lingers. The tension is thick between you, quiet and persistent. It’s in the way he brushes his fingers against yours without fully holding your hand, the way he pauses at your door like he might come in and stay. The way you let him.

When it finally happens, it’s in a bar with sticky floors and a broken jukebox that plays the same six songs in a loop. You’re sitting across from him, mid sip and telling a story you don’t even remember the punchline to when he cuts in.

“You know I like you, right?”

Your words die in your throat. You blink, caught off guard by how casually he says it, like he’s commenting on the weather. But his eyes are steady, and he’s not smiling this time. His face is serious, like he wants you to truly know how he feels.

“I was hoping you did.” you say quietly.

“I can tell I inspire half your songs now in some ways,” he murmurs. “Least you could do is give me a happy one.”

You meet his gaze and smile, heart thudding loud in your ears.

“If I write it, will you be in the music video?”

“Only if you get my good side.” He strikes a funny pose making you laugh. Your laugh makes him feel things he didn’t know were possible and when he realizes that in that very moment,

He leans in and kisses you.

It’s warm and slow, like he knew you’d kiss back. He tastes faintly of soda and fries. His hands settle at your waist like he’s done it before a million times.

You kiss him back like you’ve been waiting for the cue, like your body already knows this rhythm.

Later, tangled up in your apartment, your shirt traded for one of his hoodies that are way too big on you, you rest your cheek against his chest. He scrolls lazily through your playlists, adding anything he thinks fits the vibe. Leaving himself engrained in one fo the things you love the most.

“I could write a whole album about you,” you mumble against his skin.

He hums thoughtfully. “Make it a double.”

You laugh. “Ambitious.”

“You’ve got range, I believe in you.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “What kind of songs do you want?”

He taps his chin like he is deep in thought. “Surprise me.”

You smile, already thinking up the melody in your head.

[strwbrryeyes]

but also as life goes for me bc i must have wronged the universe in my past life i might be slow still releasing them

[strwbrryeyes]

2/7 of the requests are done

currently almost done with the third one

[strwbrryeyes]

everytime i post and reread my work after i post it i am always reminded that i need to triple reread everything bc im stupid

[strwbrryeyes]

if u saw that i accidentally used the wrong title for that no you didnt

[strwbrryeyes]

Hiii, I'd like to request a Tsukishima fic with a rivals to lovers/mutual pining trope for your event!

༊·˚ Academically confused

⟡ featuring: tsukishima kei

⟡ cw: angst, lmk if i missed anything else

⟡ a/n: i love tsukki being an academic rival even if it is cheesy and has been written a million times so i hope you like it becaus ei enjoyed wwriting it <3

You met Tsukishima Kei during your first week of university, and it was less of a meet-cute and more of a mutual eye roll of annoyance with the class.

He was standing outside the lecture hall with his headphones around his neck, scrolling through something on his phone. You figured he was in the same literature class as it was the only one scheduled in this hall at this hour. You stood beside him, nervously scrolling through your schedule, worried you might miss a class or go to the wrong classroom,  your stomach a tight ball of nerves from first week anxiety. Meanwhile, Tsukishima’s  expression was bored like he had something better to do than stand in the hallway waiting for the professor to finally arrive

“Intro to Lit?” you asked, more to ground yourself than anything else.

“Unfortunately,” he replied in a grumble, barely glancing at you.

Your eyebrows lifted. Rude.

With his attitude being your first impression of him, you decided to observe him more. He was tall, lanky, and had a mouth that just looked like it was made for snide remarks. The glasses perched on his nose gave him a false sense of kindness and soft mannerisms that didn’t match the bored, piercing look in his eyes. Something about him made your skin prickle.

You offered your name, trying to make small talk as you continued to wait because maybe he wasn’t so bad after all and you were just making assumptions?

He just nodded. “Tsukishima.” No first name. No smile.

You stood there, dumbfounded at his tone and right then and there, you decided immediately: you didn’t like him.

-

It didn’t take long for things to even more of a sour turn. 

As if the universe didn’t hate you enough, he was in so many of your other classes.

Tsukishima always had something to say. Always has something to argue,  Whether it was during lecture discussions, group debates, or casual commentary in the hallway— he had the annoying ability to make you feel like your ideas were isiotic even when you knew they weren’t.

You'd raise your hand in class, offering a passionate argument on a literary theme, and before you could even finish, his voice would cut in with a counterpoint all while in a calm, quiet, irritatingly confident tone of voice. 

The first time he challenged you outright during a discussion, it was in front of the packed lecture hall in your literature class. You’d barely finished your point about the topic when his voice cut in, quoting some stupid philosopher and immediately shifting the room's attention. A couple students murmured in agreement. Your professor nodded thoughtfully. Your face burned. Your blood boiled. He didn't raise his voice or get defensive. No, he just smirked and quoted some cheesy line like it was meant to start your downfall. And that smug look on his face? Infuriating.

“You know, not everything has to be a competition,” you muttered as you passed him after class.

He barely looked up from his phone. “I’m not competing. I’m just right.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, whipping around to glare at him.

He finally looked up, calm as ever, and added with a tilt of his head, “Unless you're admitting you lost?”

From that moment on, it was war.

The rivalry was public and relentless. Classmates groaned whenever your hands shot up at the same time. Your professors, amused and slightly exhausted, began using you two as examples for everything from "healthy debate" to "spirited academic disagreement."

You upped your game, citing more sources, editing your arguments to perfection. But no matter what you did, he met you move for move, like you were playing the world’s longest game of chess. Once, you caught him leaving the library at 3 a.m. the night before a major presentation. He smirked and said, "Just making sure I stay one step ahead of you."

You hated how good he was. Hated how much you wanted to beat him. Hated how thrilling it was every time he pushed you to be sharper, quicker, smarter.

And worse of all is how you hated how alive it made you feel.

-

It was like you had the worst luck. After break you walked into a class and there he was again, sitting front row.

You both ended up in the same science Gen Ed class and the professor, clearly having heard of you two, paired you together for the semester long project.

“This is going to be fantastic,” you said, voice flat with sarcasm.

Tsukishima didn’t look up from his laptop. “Can you manage to not be dramatic for these next few months?”

“Can you manage to not be an asshole?”

He smirked again. Of course he did.

Still, you met at the library that weekend, both too stubborn to back out and too competitive to risk a low grade. The air between you was filled with unspoken tension, but neither of you dared acknowledge it. You were both too proud to admit it mattered. An hour in, you were dividing the workload, building out the outline, arguing over methodology but either way  you were still working and efficiently at that.

And then something shifted.

“You’re not completely hopeless,” he said, glancing at your screen.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “How very kind of you.”

You said it with a sneer, but your stomach fluttered anyway.

Over the next few weeks, the library became your routine. He brought drinks, you brought snacks. You debated over formatting, but shared surprising laughs during breaks. You found his dry sense of humor addictive. And he didn’t just tolerate your sarcasm— he matched it.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle, eyes flicking to your lips, lingering on your hands as you gestured, taking in your every move like there was something deeper underneath he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And sometimes, you looked back, wondering how someone so infuriating could start to feel like a comfort.

One night, you left the library late. The air was cold, and you’d forgotten your jacket. Without a word, he shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to you.

You wore it for three days before giving it back. He never askedabout it.

-

It hit you on a Thursday night.

He was sitting across from you, eyes squinting slightly behind his glasses as he read over your notes. His hair was a mess. He looked exhausted but determined. Your knees brushed under the table but neither of you pulled away.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just friendship. It wasn’t rivalry. It was him. Everything about him. The way he furrowed his brows in concentration, the way he remembered throughout the weeks that you liked matcha more than coffee, the way he made space for you at the table like it was second nature at this point.

You were in trouble.

You told yourself it was just circumstance. That it would pass once the project was done with. But it only got worse.

He started texting you just to ask you about your day or just send you random articles about topics you both talked about the day prior. He dragged you to a science museum for your project but ended up wandering the exhibits with you like it was a date. He brushed your shoulder, lingered when he handed you notes, stared at your mouth a little too long when you talked or smiled.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said one night on your walk home.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t hate this.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Because you didn’t hate it either. And that’s what terrified you.

But it was also everything else.

You noticed the little things. How his fingers would tap when he was trying not to say something. How he sat closer to you every week, until your bags touched. How he rolled his eyes at you in class, but smiled when you laughed at something dumb. He didn’t flirt but that is only because he didn’t know how. But his affection was in the details.

You found yourself rereading your text threads just to feel close to him whenever you wouldn’t meet up. You looked for him first in every room. You caught yourself doodling his name in the margins of your notes and hated that you’d become that person.

Then one night, he handed you a USB drive, silent and unreadable.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“The photos from the museum. You said you wanted to use them in the presentation.”

You opened the files later that night, expecting exhibit photos.

Half of them were of you.

Candid, focused, smiling. You hadn’t even known he was taking them.

And that’s when you knew,

You were in love with him.

And maybe he felt it too.

But that maybe is what drove you away.

-

You panicked. Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put up your walls before you fell any deeper. So you skipped your next meeting. Left his texts on read. Started arriving to class late and leaving early. You convinced yourself it was necessary to keep things from getting complicated, from becoming real. But it already was

You started skipping study sessions. Delayed your replies to his texts. Avoided eye contact in lectures. Told yourself you were just keeping things in check, keeping things safe.

Except it wasn’t safe. It was lonely.

Every second you spent apart from him felt like you were being punished for wanting something you didn’t deserve. Your chest ached with words you couldn't say, and your throat burned with the effort of pretending you didn’t care. You told yourself it was better this way and that the line between rivals and something more was too blurry, too risky. That Tsukishima Kei would never look at you that way.

But when you saw him across the room, laughing with someone else, you felt hollow. And when you heard his name but not his voice, it was a reminder of everything you were pushing away.

Tsukishima noticed. Of course he did.

He caught you outside lecture one day, voice sharper than anything you’ve heard from him before.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You didn’t answer. Just shifted your weight awkwardly.

“Why?” he pressed.

“I’m just… busy.”

“Bullshit.”

You flinched. His eyes burned into your own.

“Why does it matter?” you snapped.

He looked like you’d slapped him.

“Because I thought we were… something,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. “I don’t know what, but… not just rivals anymore.”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t bear to see that hurt look in his eyes. So you turned and walked away.

But with every step, it felt like something inside you was unraveling.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Every sarcastic comment, every stolen glance, every near-confession played on a loop in your mind like a movie you couldn’t pause. You kept telling yourself it was better this way, clean lines, no blurred boundaries but all it felt like was losing.

Because for the first time, you didn’t want to win anything.

You just wanted him.

-

A few days passed since you walked away from him.

You didn’t see him in the library. You didn’t get a single message. Your matcha tasted worse. Everything felt heavier…weirder.

You saw him sitting on the library steps one evening, framed by golden light from the tall windows behind him. The campus was quiet, wispy pink clouds scattered the sky, and he looked so still, so unlike his usual collected self. He looked up as you approached, headphones around his neck, a question in his eyes that he didn’t voice. You didn’t need him to. You already knew.

“I miss you,” you said, voice trembling.

He blinked slowly, like he was trying to make sense of your presence.

“I was scared,” you admitted. “Of you. Of me. Of what this was turning into. It was easier to pretend it didn’t matter.”

“But it does,” he said softly.

You nodded. “It really, really does.”

Silence settled between you like snow.

Then, “I thought I was the only one,” he confessed. “Thought I was misreading everything. That I ruined it.”

“No,” you breathed, and reached for his hand. “You didn’t ruin anything. I did. And I want to fix it.”

He looked down at your joined hands, then up at you, something unreadable in his expression.

“I didn’t know how to stop needing you,” he said, voice low. “Even when you pulled away.”

You leaned your forehead against his. “Then don’t stop.”

And when he kissed you, it was like everything you’d been running from caught up to you all at once. The longing, the fear, the electricity of what had always been there. It was messy, and warm, and real.

You laughed against his lips.

“What?” he murmured.

“I still kind of hate you,” you whispered.

“Good,” he said. “Because I love you.”

[strwbrryeyes]

Omg hi moot! I totally meant to send you an ask before but hiiiii ❤️

hiiii moot! hope youre doing well <3

[strwbrryeyes]

☼ intro (end of the world) ☼ (kageyama tobio x reader)

⟡ cw: she/her pronouns used but not much, lmk if i miss anything else

⟡ a/n: i have been wanting to write for this album since the day it came out so im gonna do little drabbles for the songs as a way to make up for my lack of writings/requests that i actually need to upload so i hope you all enjoy it :3

⟡ eternal sunshine masterlist

You had been dating Kageyama Tobio for a little over a year at this point. Everything was always moving so fast…for him. While Kageyama was constantly playing volleyball and traveling the country for official matches, you were in college working towards your dream career.

Although you and kageyama have made so many efforts to keep in contact regularly by video calling and texting constantly or even travelling to see each other when possible, it has been difficult to come to terms with the fact that you do not spend as much time as you want to with each other. It has gotten to the point where you don’t know if keeping this relationship going is even worth it anymore. Both you and Kageyama want to get through it, you have had countless talks about wanting it to work out and you both always come to the agreement that neither of you wouldn’t trade anything for the world.

You think you’re meant for each other but you keep thinking to yourself ‘why dont i know that he is the one for me? Why do I only think it?’ but of course, you shake it off and continue on with the relationship. Even with all of these thoughts of figuring out if you are supposed to be with him for life or not, there are moments where the tough times make the good times worth it…and that is what keeps the both of you going. One of those moments was on your birthday a few weeks ago when Kageyama decided to surprise you with a visit.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

After a long day of classes and your job at a doggy daycare, all you wanted to do was lay down in your bed with some comfy pajamas, eating chips without regard for the crumbs that would land on your bed sheets all while watching your favorite reality show. It was a pretty solid plan but it all went down the drain the minute you stepped foot into the hallway that had your apartment and saw that your door was opened. Your whole body filled with dread as you walked closer, worried that you had just been robbed but as you got closer you saw a small trail of silver confetti leading you through the doorway and as soon as you stepped foot infront of the entrance of your apartment, you stopped all of you belonging onto the ground and ran to the one thing that could be better than a lazy night. Your boyfriend.

“Tobio! What are you doing here?” you ask Kageyama as you jump into his arms while you become a giggling mess (who is also crying).

“I couldn’t have my angel be all alone on her birthday!” Kageyama chuckles as he embraces you in his arms but is quickly confused when you fall silent right after he finishes speaking. “[name]? You good there?” he questions you as he puts you down to be greeted with the blank expression on your face.

“My birthday..?” cocking your head to the side, you look behind Kageyama to see decorations all over your living area, eyes landing on the big ‘happy birthday’ sign. You had completely forgotten today was your birthday. 

“Babe, don’t tell me you forgot your birthday?” Kageyama laughs out before pulling you in for another hug “and you say i’m the dense one.” he flicks your forehead before kissing it and all you can do is laugh along with him.

The rest of the night was pure bliss as you layed in bed with your loved one, eating your favorite type of sweet from your favortie bakery down the stree, while watching your reality tv show.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

Thinking about this small but memorable event, you can’t help but smile as it helps you become certain that you and Kageyama are meant to be. You now knew that Kageyama Tobio would be the first and last person you run to if the world were to ever end and honestly, as your pulled out of your thoughts by your ringing phone that is signaling you that your boyfriend is calling you, you wouldn’t have it any other day.

[strwbrryeyes]

gonna start posting regualrly frfr starting with the even (along with some angst bc im angsty lately and have actually written angst on my down time)

[strwbrryeyes]

Hello! Saw your one year event and happy one yr in advance for it!! Would like to try out for a HC with a short f reader defending ushijima as some pple behind his back were sh*t talking abt him , n maybe if ushijima (n maybe if he is wif his frens idk whichever!!!) happens to hear it ( •̯́ ᵕ •̯̀) i hope i did it right and thank u!!

༊·˚ He's just quiet

⟡ featuring: ushijima wakatoshi

⟡ cw: none i think

⟡ a/n: this wasnt really head canon styled but i hope you like it regardless :3 again sorry for the wait </3 i also didnt know how to add in the reader being short whoops

It started off as background noise as you waited for your boyfriend, just conversation from a few people gathered near a table in the uni dining hall. You hadn't meant to listen in, but when someone said Ushijima's name, your attention locked in automatically.

“He’s so… stoic all the time,” one of them said, causing you to raise a brow.

“Does he even talk when they’re alone?” another asked, laughing like it was a joke everyone should be in on.

You stood there for a second, not out of shock, but because you were deciding if it was even worth it. They weren’t being intentionally cruel, but it was the kind of thoughtless, careless chatter that irritated you more than the outright rudeness of it all since they knew nothing about him, you, or your relationship at all. 

So you stepped in. “Actually, he’s not that stoic. He’s just quiet person who likes to keep his peace by only keeping to himself and those around him. There’s a difference.”

They turned toward you, a little caught off guard, not expecting you to be there.

“He listens more than he speaks. He pays attention to things most people miss. And yeah, he’s not the loudest person in the room, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel things deeply or at all,” you said, your voice steady but slowly becoming more defensive.

You weren't trying to start a fight, but you weren’t going to let them talk about him like that either. “You don’t have to be overly expressive to be a good partner. He’s one of the most caring people ever even if he shows it in a lowkey manner”

There was an awkward pause as no one really knew how to follow that, and you didn’t expect them to. You didn't want to. You turned to leave and nearly bumped into Ushijima himself. He had approached quietly, his expression unreadable at first, but when his eyes met yours, there was something warm and certain in them.

He looked past you toward the group, his tone even. “Don’t speak on something you know nothing about, especially when it comes to my relationship.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Just gently placed his hand on your back and took you away from the group and conversation. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and he didn’t say anything for a while, just held your hand the rest of the way out.

–

Later that night, curled up on the couch with your legs draped over his, you felt the quiet comfort of being near him being more calming than usual. You were about to bring up the earlier situation, but he spoke first.

“I heard you,” he started “all of it,”

You blinked, surprised by how soft his voice sounded.

“Thank you,” he said, not looking away from where his thumb was tracing circles on your leg. “You didn’t have to say anything. But you did.”

You smiled. “I wasn’t going to let them talk about you like you weren’t worth understanding.”

His lips curved just slightly, and he gave a small nod. “You always see me and that’s all I need.”

He was right, you did. That’s why you never needed him to be louder or different. His silence was never empty and cold. It was full of intention, care, and all the things people missed when they didn’t bother to look close enough.

[strwbrryeyes]

officially a college graduate as of saturday wahoo

[strwbrryeyes]

hi a little update

less than a month until i graduate! im so excited but right now ive been stressed with projects and assignments and exams so wish me luck

and once again i apologize for putting the event on such a long hold, if i knew this semester was going to be has hectic as it has been, i would have waited but i was just really excited. i should have guessed it wouldve been hard though since it is my last semester.

but as soon as i graduate and am settle back home i will get to writing! and it will be my best writing yet i hope because you all deserve that

love you all mwah mwah

[strwbrryeyes]

I am aware that i still have not posted more of the even requests but bear with me im a senior in college in her last semester about to graduate and things have been getting more hectic by the day and i do not even have time to text my friends anymore but I AM TRYING TO FIND TIME I PROMISE I WONT LEAVE YOU GUYS WITH NOTHING I AM A WOMAN OF MY WORD WEHN IT COMES TO REQUESTS ‼️🙌🏻