#kaija writes: haikyuu!!

[purpleqilinwrites]

when summer comes.

a/n: "i am a passenger princess ushijima enjoyer," i say (hewwo, i'm kaija, adult, never learned how to drive).

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: ushijima wakatoshi

genre: fluff

info: established relationship (ushijima is your boyfriend); post-time skip

warnings: -

synopsis: ushijima promises to take you to paris in the summer.

word count: 0.8k

fluff-vember prompt: holiday

fluff-vember 2023 masterlist is here.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

The car would seem too quiet once you dropped Tendou off at a train station a few stops down from his hotel.

You had insisted on driving him the whole way, but he simply wiggled his eyebrows and threw finger guns at you and Ushijima after accepting the ride and getting in your rental car. Something about "not wanting to third wheel", which you had also insisted he wouldn't be. You enjoyed having him around, and it was apparent your boyfriend did too.

Tendou flew in from Paris without his partner, since they couldn't take the time off from work for it. Consequently, he also attended the Shiratorizawa Academy reunion party alone. It gave you the opportunity to get to know your boyfriend's best friend better, which you appreciated, but you would've felt less awkward with Ushijima if Tendou's partner had been beside him.

Tendou exited the car in such a rush that you were suddenly concerned that you'd been driving too slowly. He flashed his phone screen to you, as if he could read your thoughts, and you saw that his partner was calling. You stepped out of the car to see him off, since Ushijima was already waiting on the sidewalk.

Standing beside your boyfriend, you watched Tendou cross the street and practically fly into the train station.

Maybe he wanted to get a head start on showing them a bit about the city he grew up in. At the party, you had heard him telling Ushijima that he was going to film himself eating around Sendai for them while he was here, which you thought was so sweet. The next time Ushijima flew somewhere without you – which would be soon, when game season began – you'd make sure to ask him to take some videos to go along with the pictures of his day that he sent you.

You've been standing outside in the cold for a while, feeling a chill come over you as a signal of the time. As if sensing your discomfort, Ushijima removed his coat to drape it over your shoulders. You pulled it tighter around you after you gave him your thanks.

"Should we get going?" he asked, even if he made no move to leave his spot beside you, resting on a guard rail outside the train station where the two of you had seen Tendou off.

"I thought it would've been nice to see Tendou-kun's partner in person," you said, instead, closing the uppermost button on Ushijima's coat under your chin so that it would stay put around your shoulders, even with the wind. "We could've had a café double date."

He hummed as a means of agreement, leaning closer to you to share his warmth. "Satori would have liked that," he said. "He has excellent taste in pastries. You would enjoy coffee tasting with his partner, too."

The wind tumbled past the train station before you could respond, reminding you to get back in the car and away from the clutch of winter. Without brushing your hair out of your eyes, you immediately turned to nuzzle your face into Ushijima's chest to warm your nose and cheeks.

"Okay, we can go now." Your voice was muffled by his shirt, which was far too thin for the weather. Once again, you marvelled at Ushijima's superhuman heat-generating and cold-resisting ability, much more in awe than you were jealous. It would've definitely freed up a lot of room in your luggage if you didn't get cold as easily as you did.

Pulling away from him and instantly mourning the loss of his warmth, you stretched out your hand for him to hold for the short walk back to the car. Ushijima took your hand and pulled your arm around his waist so that you could continue to use him to stay warm. "I don't want you to get cold," he said, smoothing your wind-tousled hair down and tucking the longer strands behind your ears.

"You spoil me." You gave him an appreciative squeeze as you started down the length of the train station, smiling. He put his own arm around you and returned the gesture, easily matching your steps.

"We can visit Satori and his partner in Paris in the summer," Ushijima said, as he held the door open for you. You paused in your attempt to get in the car, before you righted your posture and stood up straight beside the driver's seat. He repeated himself, giving you time to absorb what he was saying. The smile on your face only grew when his offer set in.

You put your hand on his arm, relishing the way he was solid under your palm. That you weren't dreaming. "That sounds amazing, Toshi," you said. "It won't clash with anything on your schedule?"

Ushijima shook his head, giving you a small smile of his own. "I have time in the late summer."

[purpleqilinwrites]

in every season.

a/n: i know i should be writing my cp2077 au fic, but i couldn't not write a fae thing with akaashi.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: akaashi keiji

genre: fluff

info: reader is a faerie; akaashi is human; established relationship (akaashi is your lover)

warnings: -

synopsis: akaashi finds himself reminiscing on his life with you, by the sea.

word count: 0.8k

Akaashi Keiji

The early summer sea lapped at his feet, balmy in the gaps between his toes before retreating down the slant of the shore. Akaashi watched the white crests of foam on their march back to the sea, shouting your name to call your attention to the telltale divots in the sand before him. You quickly came into view from his left, the lower hems of your hakama now dark with seawater from when the fickle water caught you by surprise earlier on. Holding up a basket made of woven reeds to your chest, you gestured into it before starting off in the direction he was pointing at.

You lowered yourself to a squat with a grunt, using your magic to whisk yourself closer to where the water caressed the shore. He laughed, taking careful steps as he walked down the gentle incline of the shore and then mirroring your action with a more laboured sound.

"I'll take care of it, Keiji," you said, loud enough for his senior ears to pick up, meeting his eyes with a smile as you busied your hands with digging small brown clams out of the sand. The skin at the outermost corners of your eyes crimped with your smile, and he couldn't resist leaning over to caress your wrinkles with his thumb.

"I'd rather you left the chores to the hired hands, my love. You should be resting," he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and feeling his bones ache in protest. "We didn't leave so you could keep working to your old age."

It had been more than a handful of decades since the two of you left the Fair Realm. By mortal standards, he ought to be no more than a heap of dust and bones at his age. By contrast, the fae would consider you only a little more experienced in life than a child, since you weren't even two hundred years old.

Well, you and him both.

It seemed as though it was only a few days ago that the two of you were young, with no more than a large burlap sack of food and a considerably smaller one of gold, running from Alfheim with clasped hands. Years away from your native realm appeared to blot out the divinity in your fae blood, slowly but surely, and you were beginning to have a time-kissed form that was indistinguishable from that of a mortal, even without the use of magic.

You grew older outside the Fair Realm, time adorning your features the same way that it made its mark on his. Though, for argument's sake, you aged much more gracefully than he did. Your head only began to sprout grey hairs a few years ago. With your barely silver-streaked head and your wrinkles deepening to visibility only when you smiled, you were outwardly much younger than he was, even if the two of you were born in the very same year.

The swell of your cheek was nestled in his palm, and Akaashi felt extremely fortunate to be able to witness you reaching your golden years. It was a sight that would've eluded his mortal lifespan entirely if he remained in Alfheim. After all, the full breadth of days afforded to a mortal such as himself was nothing more than a couple of childhood summers picking fruit to the long-lived fae.

"I've yet to become too old and tired to court you with foraged clams," you said, playful, hands coming up off the sun-warmed shore to cup his face. He watched you pause, remembering that there was sand sticking to your summer-damp skin. With a chuckle, you dropped your hands back where the clams were hiding, nosing into the crook of his neck instead.

A sound of fondness came bubbling up from his heart and up out of his mouth. It brought to his remembrance that lively stream that ran along the home you used to share in Alfheim, teeming with fish that you took to catching with your bare hands, making sure to show them off to him as he watched from his perch on a rock alongside the water. He supposed that you scooping clams out of the sand was the equivalent action for you in the mortal realm. Even after all these years, you still enjoyed providing food for the table, in the same way that he would always enjoy preparing it and eating it with you.

"You already have me," Akaashi said. His mouth curved easily to the shape of fae-speak, knowing that the language of your home realm was sweeter to your pointed ears than any poetry breathed in the tongue of this mortal island that adopted the pair of you.

[purpleqilinwrites]

first dates.

a/n: i just wanted to have something cute to open my blog with. i'm also helplessly in love with every single of them and want to wear their jersey to their games.

fandom: haikyuu!!

characters: bokuto, kuroo, oikawa, sawamura, ushijima

genre: fluff

info: first date things

warnings: -

Bokuto Koutarou

It’s very likely that he asked you out on a date without any prior planning, so Bokuto will just drag you anywhere that seems fun when you accept

He will literally pull you along to places because he’s so excited that it’s just you and him now! You’re like a real couple now, and he can’t quite process it yet but he’s so happy about it.

If there’s one place that Bokuto will definitely take you to, it’s the arcade; it’s fun and he can look awesome and be a good boyfriend by winning things for you! He immediately has his eyes on the biggest prize there.

If your legs are getting tired from moving around so much or being on your feet for so long, he will insist on carrying you

Bokuto will offer to pay for things without considering how much he can actually afford. If you tell him you won’t accept the thing because you don’t want him to spend that much on you, it reminds him that you’re such a kind person; no wonder he likes you so much!

If you tell him you had fun at the end of the date, he will ask you “so I’m your boyfriend now, right?!” and then he’ll start throwing out suggestions for what to do on your next date

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is more of an indoor guy, so he would like to go on a chill first date that’s preferably at a quiet place. Bookstores that have a café attached are some of his favourite places to hang out by himself and with friends, so he’ll take you to his favourite one.

He wants you to think he’s cool and grown-up, so he’ll order an Americano and make sure to tell the barista to “hold the sugar” when you can hear it, even if he usually has his coffee with sugar (if you ask, he says it’s to cut the acidity that he doesn’t really like in coffee)

Kuroo doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, but if you order a dessert to go with your drink, he’ll buy the same one you’re getting; he’ll also offer to pay for you because he’s sweet like that

Suddenly he has sweaty hands because he’s with you, and the two of you are alone together; he hopes you don’t notice the incessant hand-wiping

When he gets nervous because he feels like the conversation’s starting to dry up, he blurts out random scientific facts

He’s quite quick to beat himself up over how the date went, so it means the world to him when you suggest picking up the tab “for next time"

Oikawa Tooru

He has a very detailed plan for your first date, and he thinks it’s well-researched because he read tons of articles online from many sites to come up with it

Oikawa’s almost trying too hard, especially since his plan is time-stamped. If the two of you don’t get seated at the restaurant by the time specified in his plan, he starts to feel like the date is going badly.

He picks an Italian restaurant, because a lot of the articles he’s read suggested it as a good first date option.

Practised how to pronounce the possible menu items in an Italian way beforehand, so it will make him feel much better about the unforeseen long wait to get seated, plus you can see that he’s cultured. If you compliment his pronunciation, he’s ready to actually start learning Italian for you.

Low-key wants to re-enact the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp, so Oikawa’s definitely ordering spaghetti Bolognese and asking you frequently if you want to try some

There are a lot of things that could go wrong because of the way Oikawa approached the first date and how he was maybe too fastidious about it, but the smile on your face after is worth all his stress. It’s a huge bonus if you compliment him and say it was “romantic”.

Sawamura Daichi

Sawamura is traditional in the sense that he would like to take you out to dinner and then go for a nice, romantic walk under the stars

There’s this restaurant tucked away on the outskirts of the city where his parents like to celebrate their anniversaries; that place has a lot of good memories for them, so he wants to make happy memories with you there too

Arrives at your door too early and dressed more formally than you were planning to. Since you got a peek at Sawamura’s outfit before getting dressed, you can adjust what you’re going to wear to match him, though he insists you look beautiful regardless of what you’re wearing

If you’re wearing a colour that matches his outfit, he dies a little on the inside from how couple-like the two of you must look to other people

He doesn’t want small physical displays of affection, like holding hands, to be awkward between the two of you, so he does appreciate it if you’re somewhat casual about touching. If you occasionally tap his arm when you talk, it makes him feel less self-conscious about wanting to hold your hand.

Sawamura doesn’t expect anything at the end of the date, but he feels extra happy if you give him a kiss on the cheek when he sees you home

Ushijima Wakatoshi

In Ushijima’s attempt not to accidentally scare you off when he asks you out, he might just forget to mention that it’s a date

He takes you to the cinema and tells you to pick a movie. At this point, he’s not quite confident in his ability to hold a conversation with you yet, so he wants to watch a movie with you so there’s something the two of you can discuss.

After the movie, Ushijima leaves it to you to choose where to hang out; he’s really not picky. You can do some shopping or café-hopping or just wander around different stores browsing what’s on sale. He’s content just to accompany you.

While you’re walking around the mall with him, he keeps bumping into your shoulder with his arm. It’s not entirely on purpose, but it’s not quite an accident either.

You might just be able to see him smile for the first time; you have to be the one to suggest getting in the photo booth for a keepsake, but he’ll smile if you want him to so you have something nice to keep from the date.

Ushijima just doesn’t want to be a bore; any indication that you’re keen to see him again is good enough, but nothing’s better than when you say you “had fun with him”

[purpleqilinwrites]

bergamot haze.

a/n: i listened to a new song that popped up on my youtube feed and here i am writing an angsty thing because of it. you can find your optional background music for this fic here. it might be that i was looking for an excuse to write introspective ushijima, too. for the friend who said it's "not in his character", it can be done. now add him to your harem. also, i am addicted to earl grey tea these days. please do not ask me when the last time i had a sip of water was. i do not know these things.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: ushijima wakatoshi

genre: angst

info: post-time skip; no spoilers

warnings: -

synopsis: the smell of your favourite tea haunts him even after you're gone.

word count: 4.1k

Ushijima Wakatoshi

“I’m home,” Ushijima said, a force of habit.

He removed his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack by the front door, clearly noting that there were fewer pairs of shoes on it than he remembered. It was out of place, but he didn’t let it bother him. Ushijima shut the door behind him and locked it, and he walked further into the strangely dim apartment.

His slippers were there by the entryway, but yours weren’t.

There was something wrong with the apartment, but he couldn’t quite yet put his finger to it. Everything seemed okay, but the longer he looked at any one thing in the place, the more unseemly it became. Still, Ushijima pushed the uneasy feeling to the back of his mind with a swallow, and repeated his call of “I’m home, Y/N.”

He still didn’t receive a response.

Immediately, he went to the bedroom to check if you were taking a nap at this late hour. Ushijima pushed the door open and expected to find you bundled up on the bed, a reminder about keeping an established sleep schedule already on the tip of his tongue.

You weren’t there.

With a turn of his head, he took in the entirety of the master bedroom, and the feeling that something was very wrong sprung up again and refused to be ignored. A suspicion arose with the feeling, and Ushijima followed it, taking too-wide steps to the door of the walk-in closet.

One look was all it took for him to remember that you had already moved out. The realisation gave an explanation for the creeping feeling of disquiet that clung to him from the moment he unlocked the front door.

You had already moved out.

The shelves in the closet were bare of your clothes. You had an affinity for patterned socks for the longest time, and you were always buying new ones, even when you already had more than a hundred pairs. All hundred something pairs of your socks lined your shared closet and spilled over into drawers and shelves where socks shouldn’t be.

Ushijima never thought he would miss the jumble of colour that your collection of socks brought, but here he was.

You had already moved out.

The new awareness of that fact was starting to sink into his mind and deeper still into his bones, and suddenly, he felt a little bit numb. It was a kind of numbness that he was sure he couldn’t have explained, if ever he went to a doctor and wanted to receive some medication for it. It steeled his feet to the tile of the bedroom floor, and he couldn’t move from his spot even if he willed it.

Ushijima was still wearing his socks from training and his feet were in his house slippers. Even so, there was a cold seeping into his feet and it spread upwards frantically, like a bad fever. A phantom shiver born from a fever that wasn’t real passed over him in waves, decreasing in strength as they came, until it all subsided into numbness.

It was too late to have dinner when he managed to tear himself away from the doorway of the closet. He trudged to the kitchen, feet still too heavy and too cold, and searched for something that he could easily whip up and would fill him enough that he could wait to have a proper breakfast.

Something that would taste good even if he was eating alone.

The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of cooking when he settled on making an omelette to go with the morning’s leftover rice that he had reheated. Ushijima whirled the centre of the omelette with his chopsticks, watching for when the entirety of the omelette would become opaque and he could flip the whole thing onto the rice.

As he set the table to eat, the two plates of food in his hands felt strange, too heavy. When he remembered again that you weren’t there, he slid what would’ve been your portion of dinner onto his plate and he set down both plates on the dinner table anyway and ate.

It was a strange and bitter experience, to be eating alone at a table for only two when he was used to seeing you at the place you claimed at the other end of it. The silence at the table was broken when the kettle on the stove began to whistle, and Ushijima remembered again that you were the one who liked to drink hot tea with your meals and not him.

He went to switch the burner off and opened the cabinet where you placed your tea. When he grabbed the box from the open cabinet, it too felt too heavy and too cold in his hands. Even reading the label felt wrong in your absence.

However, having set the tea bag in a mug that wasn’t yours and letting it steep, being surrounded by the scent of it was a much greater suffering than merely looking at the box itself.

There was a bright and slightly bitter citrus scent that hung in the air. Even when Ushijima was done with his admittedly too heavy dinner and washed it down with your tea, the scent lingered and followed him.

He didn’t stop to think that maybe he was imagining it.

From: Y/N i left some of my books at your place. mind if i come pick them up tomorrow?

His phone screen lit up with a notification that he had received a text from you. He responded to it with a simple “I don’t mind”, and then he heard your voice in his mind, a little disapproving but mostly fond, telling him that he could stand to use more words. Ushijima’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He tried a smiling emoji, but quickly decided against it.

To: Y/N I don’t mind. I will be at home after 4pm. You can come then.

Ushijima stayed in the shower too long after sending you those two texts. There was nothing vaguely affectionate in the short, insignificant text exchange between the two of you. It was as if the relationship that had lasted the rough patches of high school and the uncertainty of entering adulthood was only a delusion of his own mind.

Like he had been going it alone, with only his wishful thinking for company.

When he had gotten dressed for bedtime, he found himself in the other bedroom that you once used as a home office. Sure enough, it was mostly bare, save for several stray novels that you had left behind in your rush to get out and take your things with you.

If Ushijima stared at the now empty bookshelves and desk long enough, he could imagine that everything was back to how it should be. Your books would be lining the shelves, full to nearly overflowing. Some days, they would be sorted by colour. Other days, they would be sorted by height, or language even. Other days still, they were sorted in alphabetical order of the author’s last name.

The notebooks had an entire shelf set apart for them. Your desktop setup would be in the centre of the desk. There would always be a few open books and notebooks scattered about the keyboard, with pens and highlighters and sticky notes with scribbles thrown in the mess. A coaster you knitted yourself would be some distance to the right of the mouse and the mousepad, with your favourite Pompompurin mug filled with tea on it.

And that bright and slightly bitter citrus scent would herald your presence in that room, and he would know that you were at home because he could smell it in the air. Even from the entryway, he would’ve been able to detect it.

Ushijima tossed and turned on his side of the bed, even the most fitful and disturbed sleep eluding him when he needed it. He would’ve thought that practice had worn him out sufficiently, but the scent of citrus kept him up, along with thoughts of you. For some reason, the image of you still in your pyjamas standing at the stove waiting for the water to boil burned in his mind, amongst all the other happy memories he had with you.

The bedroom door was closed and there wasn’t any tea brewing in the kitchen, and yet he could smell it, like the tea leaves perpetually sat underneath his nose. Like the ghost of you was still there in the apartment, brewing tea even at odd hours of the night.

He went to practice the next day with his feet still too heavy and too cold. When his teammates and coach asked him if he was alright, he allayed their concerns and questions by repeating the mantra that he was in good health and that nothing was wrong. They left it at that after a few cycles of Ushijima uttering the same excuse.

The afternoon came too quickly, and he was at the apartment again, sweaty and sore from an appropriately effortful practice. Again, he removed his shoes and noticed that all your footwear was missing from the shoe rack. Again, he noted the absence of your plush house slippers at their rightful place beside his.

Again, the apartment smelled of bitter citrus, even if there wasn’t anyone at home brewing the tea.

From: Y/N i’m already on the way. are you at home?

Ushijima checked his phone after showering again, even if he’d already showered before leaving the gym, and there was a text from you.

To: Y/N Yes, I’m at home now.

“At home”.

It was an oddly intimate way to be saying that he was at his place of residence, especially now that this apartment was only his home and not yours any longer. The words stirred up a hopeful part of him that he had only ever scarcely been aware existed, and he suddenly felt a certain excited anticipation overtaking the sense of dread that came with the knowledge that you were coming home.

You were coming home. To him. To this place that you once shared with him.

Ushijima felt himself tensing up uncharacteristically when a series of gentle knocks echoed from the front door. He put his magazine down on the coffee table and answered the door.

“Y/N,” he said, and he felt a little more like himself, the taste of your name on his tongue still sweet, still familiar, still like home.

You nodded, giving him a smile that he could tell was half-hearted, a practised manner of politeness. “May I come in?”

It was his turn to nod, and he moved out of the way so that you could come on in. Ushijima reached for the small stack of hotel slippers stashed away close to the entryway and handed one to you. You took it with a soft expression of thanks, but you didn’t rip the flimsy plastic open so that you could wear them.

Ushijima looked at you, and you were visibly uncomfortable for the fact that this apartment was your home until two weeks ago. He watched you crinkle the plastic covering the hotel slippers in your hands in a feeble attempt to reach the slippers, as though your hands suddenly lost all their strength from the sheer difficulty of being in his presence. He felt a prickle in his chest at the thought.

After some needless struggling, you set the slippers down on the tile, and most of the pattern of your colourful socks disappeared into them.

“My books?” you asked.

He nodded and led the way to the other bedroom, even if he knew that you knew just as well as he did where it was. Ushijima opened the door for you and gestured for you to enter the room. You said “thanks” again, though your tone and your half-smile told him it was a necessary evil of common courtesy, and you went inside.

As you walked by him to enter the room, there was that bitter scent of citrus in your hair. It wafted into his nose, and the smell hit his senses harder than brewing a cup of tea for himself to drink did.

Were you doing some work at that café you liked and drinking tea before coming to meet him here?

“Waka– Um, Ushijima-kun,” you said, and the way you chose to address him hurt more than he let on, his face not betraying a single hint of the storm of emotions that was brewing beneath the surface.

“I was missing a notebook that has some important things in it. It’s not here? Because I swear that... I left it here. Two weeks ago,” you said, hand caressing the surface of your desk. Ushijima stepped into the room with you, but maintained some distance between the two of you for your comfort.

“The cover’s pink. It’s this thick,” you said, turning to him with your hand up and your fingers bent to give him a visual clue on how your missing notebook looked like. “It’s ring-bound and– And hardcover. It’s a kind of pink that you can’t miss. Have you seen it maybe?”

He shook his head. “I have not seen it.”

Your face pinched in apprehension, and instinct almost moved him to approach you so he could kiss that expression away. Instead, he willed himself to stay where he was, his hands gripping the loose fabric of his sweatpants too hard.

“I’ve not touched anything in this room since you left,” Ushijima said. “You might have taken it with you but you weren’t aware of it.”

At his hopefully helpful words, the expression on your face morphed to something more palpably sullen. “The cover is blindingly pink. I can’t have missed it. It has to be here,” you said, gesturing to the room with both your hands.

“It has to be here,” you said again, and he didn’t understand why you repeated yourself.

“But it’s not. I have not seen it. All there is in this room are the novels on the desk. Nothing more.”

You sighed, exasperation clear in the sound and on your face. You scratched at the back of your head, the harsh movements messing up your hair, and you sighed again. Looking him in the eye for the first time since you arrived, you said, “Well. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ll get going.”

You tried to sidestep Ushijima to leave the room, but he moved faster and blocked your path of exit.

“Y/N,” he said. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

You wrung your hands in the way you did when you felt distressed. He hated to be the thing that caused you to feel that way, but he left his statement in the air and waited for you to respond.

“Wa– Ushijima-kun,” you said, correcting yourself again. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

Ushijima shook his head.

You suddenly began to withdraw yourself from him, before telling him one day that you wanted to break up and that you were going to move out. He remembered that he had said that you were being “reckless”. Just that one word sparked an argument between the two of you. He hadn’t seen you raise your voice at anyone in anger until that day, and he regretted being the cause of it, even if he hadn’t yet found the words to express it to you. Hadn’t yet found the right way to apologise for it the way you deserved.

The moving company came just two days after you had announced that you were moving out to live with a friend, and the new knowledge that you were serious about leaving was so much for him to process that he hadn’t thought to ask you why.

But now that you were here, after Ushijima has had some time to think, he wanted to get an answer from you. Even if it would be something that he didn’t like, he had to hear it from you.

You let out a forceful exhale, shaking your head at him with a rather hostile expression on your face. He watched you clench your fists, like he’d seen you do before on that day when you had shouted at him because he had called you “reckless”. Despite the almost tangible lump growing in his throat, he swallowed, and readied himself for the tirade that you looked like you were about to unleash on him.

“… You were my best friend,” you said, in a voice that was too small and too bitter and too unlike you. He wasn’t used to you sounding like this.

The outburst he had prepared himself for never came.

Instead, Ushijima waited in the silence that was beginning to feel suffocating, despite the lingering scent of citrus and tea that always surrounded you. He breathed it in as he waited, and it was more bitter than he remembered it being, the scent more like traditional medicine than the fresh peel of a fruit and tea leaves.

The silence toiled on, effortlessly trapping his breath in his throat and making his mouth run dry. He wet his lips with a swipe of the tongue, and he swallowed needlessly in the hopes that it would moisten his throat. Still, Ushijima waited, but you never picked up where you left off.

“Were,” he said, finally. It was a statement, not a question.

You nodded. With a heavy exhale, you were the first one to break eye contact, looking at your feet. Ushijima followed your gaze, watching how the tops of the hotel slippers dented with the skittish wiggling of your toes. It was only then that he noticed you were wearing your favourite Pompompurin socks. You only ever wore those on the days when you felt like you needed a little extra happiness.

It was a bitter realisation to Ushijima that you felt that way because of him. That you expected to be short on happiness, and it was his fault. It was because you were coming to see him.

You only moved your toes like that when you were feeling afflicted. He reasoned with himself that there was nothing here that should make you feel that way, but then he remembered how this conversation began. It began like a rubber band that was pulled too tightly, and it was only now he allowed himself to see how it was fraying and coming close to snapping with every second.

Ushijima wanted to say something to alleviate some of the tension between the two of you. You were slouching, curling in on yourself as you crossed your arms across your chest, like you wanted to disappear from his presence.

“You were my best friend once, Wakatoshi.”

It took him three seconds before the meaning of your words set in fully. It didn’t help that you were still visibly squirming just two long strides away from him.

“I just– I just felt like I was losing my best friend, the longer I was with you. And one day, he was gone,” you said.

You were running your hands back and forth, back and forth across your forearms. Your eyes were still glued to the open door behind him, and Ushijima noticed how your gaze flickered from the door to an empty picture frame beside it in your failed attempts to look him in the eye now.

You took a moment to breathe, and he mirrored it, taking in air when you were and then letting it out at the same time you did.

The sound of you clearing your throat made him look up from tracing the new wrinkles on the tops of the hotel slippers you were wearing.

“Maybe it’s me being sensitive. Or not understanding you as well as I thought I did,” you started, your shoulders bunching up as they rose. “Maybe you felt like you’re losing your best friend too. I-I wouldn’t know. But what I do know is there came a time when I wasn’t happy with you anymore. And that’s important to me, you know? It’s so hard to be happy. Harder still when I’m somewhere that makes me feel the opposite.”

The revelation that you weren’t happy with him crashed into him like a thousand bricks falling from the sky all at once. You weren’t happy with him. He didn’t make you happy. He made you upset, angry, frustrated, disappointed– Ushijima would’ve continued listing the words that came from your lips in his most recent memories of you, every single disagreement he’d had with you that he had all but put aside because he had to focus on volleyball. But what you just said to him was more than enough.

Why did it take you breaking up with him and leaving to know?

“I apologise, Y/N. I should have done better,” he said, and even to his own ears, he sounded like he was being strangled.

Your lips were pinched in a flat line, the fleshy part of them barely showing with how tightly you pressed them together. Ushijima could hear you breathing, how exhausted the sounds you made were. You shook your head at him again, but this time, he was certain he deserved it.

“Ushijima-kun, you had many chances to do better,” you said, your shoulders finally falling as you exhaled. It looked like you had given up on him, and that much was apparent to him, even before counting your words and your tone.

Even so, Ushijima wanted you to reconsider.

“I will do better, Y/N.”

You put a hand out, silently telling him that you didn’t want to hear it, that you already had enough.

“You–You can do better with someone new. I meant it when I said I’m done here,” you said.

He allowed you to walk around him and out of the room, out of the apartment, the last books on the desk that belonged to you safe in the tote bag hanging from your shoulder. When he found the strength to turn around, you were standing by the front door and tugging your shoes on, instead of taking the time to untie the laces and do them up again like you normally would.

It was impossible to misread how eager – desperate almost – you were to leave, and to leave for good.

“Y/N,” Ushijima said, savouring the feeling of your name on his tongue. This might very well be the last chance he had to say it. To call you by your first name as lovers do, and not by your last name as a stranger would.

Though, he was sure he would make that mistake the first dozen times he'd chance upon you.

Your sneaker squeaked against the dark tile of the entryway floor with the force you exerted to shove your foot in. You swung your head in his direction at the call of your name. He had many things he wanted to say to you, to thank you for the years you’ve been steadfast at his side and to give a final goodbye accompanied with well wishes for what would come next in your life. The tears that glistened at the corners of your eyes in the late afternoon glow choked him, and the words he had for you died.

Did you know how beautiful you were? So beautiful that it hurt that this would be the last time he was allowed to be with you, just him and just you.

A sniffle wrinkled the bridge of your nose, and this time, Ushijima could not help running to where you were to scoop you up in his arms. Bitter citrus flooded his senses as he came within an arm’s reach of you. He would’ve caged you to his chest, close enough that it would be difficult to ascertain where he ended and where you began.

But you put out a hand to ward him off. He abruptly came to a stop, his toes hanging off the edge of where the entryway and the rest of the apartment were separated, your palm just a mere whisper away from his chest.

Whatever transpired after that moment was a blur in his memory. You had left the apartment with your novels in a tote bag that you held in your arms but without the pink notebook you were looking for. There were tears in his memory. He couldn’t confidently place whose they were, yours or his. But someone had been crying, in that last meeting.

Ushijima had put the kettle on the stove and brewed himself a cup of your favourite tea after you left, as a consolation of sorts. Perhaps, a final goodbye to you, and all the memories in his head that were coloured by your presence, standing apart from the others that were grey.

It was the only thing he had left of you, after all.

[purpleqilinwrites]

pining.

a/n: i write more hq things than i tell myself i will, despite advertising myself as a multi-fandom blog. also, i think tsukki is my favourite after writing this.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: tsukishima kei

genre: fluff

info: he likes you, maybe

warnings: -

Tsukishima Kei

“Please?”

Tsukishima sat back and watched you squirm a little beneath his less than friendly gaze, waiting for you to do something. To challenge him, like he knew you weren’t afraid of doing. Or even just to glare at him in an attempt to intimidate him. Anything that would entertain him. It was more fun when you were a little mad at him anyway.

Instead, the way you reacted fell below his expectations by a long shot. You merely clasped your hands in front of your chest and repeated yourself, your tone slightly more desperate, slightly more exasperated than the first three times you’d asked.

“Pretty, pretty please? I really need to get good marks for that English test.”

Tsukishima readjusted his glasses, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. You kept that kicked puppy look on your face, and he had to admit that it made him falter just a little. Could you not look at him like that? Even he was starting to feel a pinch of guilt in his gut from making you look so helpless before him. And for what? Denying a small favour like helping you study for a test?

He resigned to the little part of himself was too soft for his liking, and sighed. Tsukishima knew he had nothing to gain but also nothing to lose. Well, maybe he was signing up for something that might turn out to be a waste of time, but he could deal with that if it came to it.

Maybe Yamaguchi was right when he said you made him mushy. The word reminded him of an overripe apple. The sort that had gone brown and unappetisingly dry. Disgusting. Even if Yamaguchi was right, the word was still disgusting and he hated that the guy used it to describe him, of all the people in the world.

“Fine,” Tsukishima said, looking away from you for once, and pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose for no real reason.

He paused, dragging his eyes back to you. The kicked puppy look on your face had quickly morphed into a lovesick puppy look, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. You looked pretty stupid like that, but if anyone called attention to it, he would fight them. You were free to look as stupid or as cute as you like.

“I’ll tutor you for a bit. But if you still suck after a few sessions, that’s on you,” he said, shooing you before you could do something very bad to his heart.

All you did was a quick bow as you thanked him in a tone that was too enthusiastic, and Tsukishima still found his heart rate spiking. He wiped his palms on his pants after he gestured for you to leave him alone once more, cursing how weak he was in the face of you as he watched your back getting swept up in the lunchtime crowd.

[purpleqilinwrites]

your hand.

a/n: i love yamaguchi, as always.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: yamaguchi tadashi

genre: fluff

info: he just wants to hold your hand

warnings: -

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Your hand was comfortably within his reach, but it seemed unbearably far in his mind’s eye.

Yamaguchi trailed a step and a half behind you as you wandered the department store in search of a present for one of your friends, and he briefly wondered if anyone who saw the two of you saw a couple. He tried to picture it, and the best he could give himself was ‘friend following a friend who wanted to buy something’.

It suddenly occurred to him that he might look a little creepy staying as close to you as he was, and he straightened his posture in a panic. He didn’t want to look like an overly attached ex-boyfriend! Yamaguchi tried to discreetly scan the floor for anyone who might think agree with this stray thought that made him start to sweat nervously, and he stubbed the top of his foot on the corner of one of the displays.

You were right at his side immediately, your eyes wide in concern.

“Are you okay, Yamaguchi-kun?” you asked. “Is your foot okay?”

You tilted your head a little to the left and a little too cutely, and the dull throb in his foot was lost on him. He suddenly felt like it was wrong to look at you, so he quickly averted his eyes to his shoes and made a show of turning one of his feet this way and that.

“I’m so clumsy,” he said, as a way of breaking the silence that becoming too much for him. You were watching him pretend to check his foot for an injury that he knew wasn’t there. Something about knowing that you were watching him made want to fake a cough, but he hastily decided against it.

Yamaguchi righted himself in what he hoped was a natural standing position. He was about to apologise for keeping you from your shopping but you appeared to predict his next words and waved them off before he could say them.

“I stub my toe on things all the time, so don’t worry about it!” you said, smiling. You pointed to the foot he had pretended was quite badly hurt, and there was a small prick of guilt in his chest. “Is your foot okay?”

He made a waving gesture with both his hands. “I’m fine! It’s just– Can I hold your hand, maybe?”

The words escaped him before he could properly think about them. Holding your hand had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation but it slipped out anyway! Yamaguchi felt his cheeks burn as he turned his face away from you, and he was sure that it was his shame and his desire to instantly become invisible that made his head feel like it was on fire.

It would be much appreciated if you would pretend he didn’t just make a fool of himself.

Against his expectation, you removed your hand from its place at the strap of your backpack where it normally sat, and you extended your hand to him. In response to this, he allowed himself to set his eyes on your hand once again, coming away from boxes of unknown trinkets on the display behind you.

“If you don’t mind that it’s sweaty,” you said, your smile evident in your voice.

[purpleqilinwrites]

pining.

a/n: i have yamaguchi on the brain so i've got a companion piece of sorts for him, to match the tsukishima one i wrote a while back.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: yamaguchi tadashi

genre: fluff

info: he doesn't know what to do about how much he likes you

warnings: -

Yamaguchi Tadashi

When Yamaguchi noticed that the phone charm strap he bought for you was dangling off your phone as you walked into the classroom in the morning, he almost died.

“A-Ah, nice, Y/N-san!” he said, before he thought about how weird that would’ve sounded for you. He bought that charm for you, didn’t he? Of course he would choose the nice one. He would never pick something you might not like.

You just laughed, like it was no big deal that he was being weird, and walked up to his desk. “You bought it for me, and you’re complimenting it?” you asked, a playful lilt in your voice, after you had pulled up a chair to his side and sat on it.

Yamaguchi scratched the back of his neck in his nervousness, trying to find the words to salvage the situation. He knew that you weren’t angry or weirded out by him, or by his uncool reaction, but he still wanted you to think that he was a little cool. Even just a little. What would Tsukki say if it was him in this situation? He tried to imagine it, but knowing that Tsukki barely embarrassed himself, if he did at all, Yamaguchi found himself drawing a blank if he wanted to respond like his friend would have.

“I-I’m just happy you like it. That’s all!”

You held your phone up close to your face, and tilted it this way and that so the charm strap swished with the movement. “Of course I like it! It’s cute and the puppy kinda looks like you, doesn’t it?” you said, petting the little plush puppy in a way that made him feel more embarrassed just by watching it.

Yamaguchi wished that were him instead.

You liked dogs so much that you stop to pet all dogs you come across, even during school trips. There was once that you got in trouble because you got lost in another prefecture by following a big dog you saw, instead of sticking with the class. If he were a dog, to feel your hands on his head–

“H-How do you mean?!” he asked, when your words properly sank in. “I… look like a dog?”

You held the puppy hanging off your phone with your other hand to bring it closer to him. “The spots remind me of your cute freckles, of course!”

The nonchalant way you said it almost masked the words you said and allowed them to slip past his comprehension. Almost. Yamaguchi wished he didn’t quite catch what you said, but how could he not when you were sitting so close and everyone else was too sleep-deprived to make noise?

There were no words for him to use how he reacted to your statement, other than that he internally combusted because of it.

[purpleqilinwrites]

this shade of blue.

a/n: semi is the lead singer of a band here and i leave it to you to imagine his genre (just don’t imagine country), and you’re an actor because reasons. for day 29 of au-gust 2021. prompt: pretend relationship.

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: semi eita

genre: fluff

info: post-time skip; canon-divergent; semi is a musician; you're an actor; fake dating

warnings: -

synopsis: he likes the blue of his concert tee on you a little too much.

word count: 2.5k

au-gust 2021 masterlist is here.

Semi Eita

Semi was on set again, even if he didn’t have any scenes to film.

The staff acknowledged his presence as per the norm, handing him a folding chair and ushering him to a corner where he could watch you work your magic without being a bother. He bowed slightly to the staff who had apparently been tasked to be a handler of sorts for him for the day, and the staff only smiled as he walked with him.

“You know you don’t have to be here all the time, right?” was the response that Semi received when he thanked the member of staff for the chair.

Semi smoothly set up his chair and sat, and he said, “I know. I just want to support Y/N.”

There was something ambiguous in the smile of the other man that hadn’t been there earlier on. Semi decided right then that he didn’t see it since he couldn’t name it, choosing instead to wish the staff well for the hours of filming ahead of him and then shifting his focus to you.

In his corner of the set, Semi tried not to think about the fact that this folding chair the staff kept around for him already had his name written on a sheet of paper taped to the back. He was here to support you, and not to marvel at the chicken scratch you called handwriting.

(It was nice of you to remember his favourite colour and write his name in blue, even if it did bad things to his heart.)

It was hardly eleven in the morning, but Semi already wanted to scream himself hoarse.

He turned his face to catch a glimpse of the expression on your face (not out of habit, no), and he could feel himself breathe easier when he found you smiling. You squeezed his hand when you noticed him looking at you out of the corner of your eye, your smile growing.

Semi smiled back, reciprocating the squeeze and then giving your hand three long squeezes extra for the fun of it.

When the two of you managed to outrun and slip away from the group of Semi’s fans who had been hotly pursuing you, you came to a stop and slumped against the rolling shutter doors behind you, the thin sheet of metal screeching in protest. Semi came and stood by you, leaning against the shutters too, and laughed at the way you were heaving.

You slapped your hand onto your knee as you bent over to catch your breath. Your posture was lopsided and bad for your back, and he was quick to point it out.

“Don’t,” he said, becoming a little more aware of how unfamiliar he had become with physical exertion – or how he had physically aged since the last time he had run so hard. “Stand up straight.”

You let go of his hand to push yourself off your knees and stand upright, and Semi silently – secretly – mourned the loss of your hand in his, even if your hand was sweaty.

There were so many things that he could’ve followed up with, but his mouth was empty and his tongue was dumb. He opted instead to lean his head back and shove his hands into his pants pockets, keeping his eyes on you.

There was a scene in the drama the two of you were in that played out just like this. The main difference was that you had been running with your love interest, and not him.

Why not him? He was playing the part of a professional athlete, for crying out loud. Something about him having played volleyball for most of his school life. On the other hand, your love interest was your senpai at your magazine job where the guy sat on his ass most of the time he was on the screen.

It didn’t make sense when Semi first looked over your shoulder at your script while you were memorising your lines together. It made less sense now.

You made less sense now.

“Hey, Ei-Eita-kun,” you said, and he coughed to mask how your voice startled him. Semi was listening for what you were going to say next, but instead of words, laughter tumbled out of your lips.

This was what you sounded like when you were laughing for real.

The realisation made something in his chest stutter uncontrollably, as though he had been chugging some shitty cocktail his bandmates mixed up for him and he had choked on it before spitting all of it out. It was a messy feeling, but he didn’t hate it.

Not when your lips were tinted a little bit blue and a little purple from the suspicious mocktail you had at the café, and he wanted to taste it.

(Maybe it was your laugh he wanted to taste, after all.)

“Semisemi, you’re so gross–”

The decorative pillow that Semi had been taking care not to lean on suddenly materialised in his grip and then on the trajectory to the face of an old friend. Tendou let out an overdone groan of pain, and Semi scoffed, knowing that he had missed in his haste so the other guy was definitely not in pain.

Not yet, maybe.

“Shut up,” he said, scooting further into the corner of the couch now that it was vacant of the too-big decorative pillow and using his feet to idly push his friend away. “It’s not gross.”

Tendou swatted at Semi’s feet weakly, the action more for show than anything else, and he rolled his eyes at Semi who was too occupied with his phone than doing any actual catching up.

“What’s not gross?” Tendou asked, a hand on his chin as he struck an exaggerated thinker’s pose. “I didn’t say anything was gross. I was talking about you, Semisemi. You’re gross.”

Semi frowned, looking up from his phone properly for the first time since he arrived at Tendou’s hotel room to visit. Tendou pointed at him with both hands, stretching his arms out far as they could go in Semi’s direction to make a point. Semi didn’t know what point he was trying to make, and his frown deepened considerably when Tendou started chanting “Semisemi, so gross” in a singsong voice.

“Shut up,” Semi said, when Tendou took a break from reaching across the couch to relentlessly prod at his shoulder and upper arm in tune with his new and very annoying mantra.

“Since you’re too gross to ask me what I mean, I’m just going to say it outright and tell you that you’re so gross when you’re in love, Semisemi,” Tendou said, after taking a long and dramatic swig of hotel-brand bottled water. “I won’t say it doesn’t suit you because it does suit you very well, but you could stand to be less gross– Oi, oi, put that down!”

Semi kept the decorative pillow he picked up from the floor in his hand, opting instead to lower it to his side rather than raise it threateningly at Tendou.

“I’m not done talking yet, okay? All I’m saying is that you’re gross because you’ve been refreshing Y/N’s socials since you got here. And you’ve been here maybe half an hour already. That’s so gross and so creepy of you! I just think you should–”

Semi pocketed his phone and leaned over Tendou to steal the decorative pillow on his side of the couch from behind him. Tendou quickly flung himself to the armrest to keep Semi from taking the other pillow, already knowing that his friend was going to use it as ammunition against him.

“Get. Off,” Semi said, tugging at the corner of the decorative pillow crumpling and getting squished under Tendou’s weight.

As abruptly as Tendou had safeguarded his corner of the couch and decorative pillow that sat there, he slid to the middle of the couch with the same speed and shoved at Semi in the hip with the heels of his palms. Semi stumbled with a pillow in one hand, but he let go of the other to steady himself by planting his now free hand firmly on the armrest.

“There we go,” Tendou said, the smug smile on his face evident in his voice. “I liked Y/N’s new picture for you.”

Semi didn’t know if he never hated or appreciated Tendou more than ever before in that moment.

“Y/N looks really good in blue. Much better than you do, Semisemi!”

(Semi knew that already, but it was good to hear it anyway.)

You had always been somewhat of a saint throughout this entire pretend dating thing, but right now, Semi was sure you were definitely one.

His bandmates had seen fit to make kissy noises at you starting from when you peered into the practice room to make your presence known. That was the first shit thing they did. They grew worse as they began cooing at you when you stepped into the room proper and handed the coffee you brought for them, calling each of the guys by name and telling them that you had their drink made just the way they liked it.

Semi was sure he wanted the ground to sprout a mouth and chew on him when the guys started spitting out weird things about your relationship with him that they’ve seen on Twitter. This the guys did despite fully knowing that it was a meticulously constructed public relations stunt meant to benefit both him and the band as well as you and your career.

If only they were this proactive when it was their turn to interact with fans and the general online public using the band’s official social media accounts. He wouldn’t have to work so hard to remind them to get their daily interactions in, as required by the managers and the people from the label who were higher up the ladder than them.

“And for you, Eita-kun,” you said, and the scent of caramel wafting from the opening in the sippy lid on the cup wasn’t enough to take his attention from you. “If you’re not feeling like caramel, I got a houjicha latte for myself but we can swap if you want.”

The sudden force of a hand making contact with Semi’s back sent him tumbling onto the floor, narrowly dodging you and the two cups still in your hands. He managed to avoid making a mess with what was left of his quick reaction time from playing volleyball in school. In a tangle of limbs on the cold tiles, Semi heard an eruption of guffaws punctuated with snorts from all around him and he was glad for the fact that you hadn’t joined in.

The guys left you to set the two drinks on a nearby chair and pick him up from the floor, and he was torn between getting angry at them or reluctantly thanking them for their antics later.

“Sorry about them,” he said, scratching at the back of his head when he removed his arm from around your shoulder. “They seem childish, but they’re not always that bad.”

You nodded, pulling the scattered chairs together and gesturing for Semi to take a seat. “Most people are like that. I’m sure you thought the same about me the first time we met.”

He let his hand pause midway to the cup clearly marked ‘caramel latte’ when your words registered on him.

You seemed to pick on the question he wanted to ask, and said, “I spilled my coffee on you? And then I dumped some of it on myself after because your resting bitch face scared me?”

Something clicked in his mind, and the incident you described came flooding in, colours and words and sounds and all. Semi bit down on his lip to keep from making a sound that was more like a shriek than a bout of laughter, but the way he was feeling escaped him regardless.

He wasn’t on set, and neither were you. He wasn’t in public for everyone to come and scrutinise him, and neither were you.

“You–! I always kind of knew I’m down bad with resting bitch face, but really, you’re the only one spooked enough to pour coffee on themselves because I was looking at them,” he said, his words slipping out between his chuckles that he didn’t bother hiding behind a polite hand or the cup in his other hand.

You slapped his knee playfully, with no real weight behind the blow, laughing along with him. “You’re really frowny! I panicked and just– It seemed fair and not such a bad idea at that time, alright? My hand moved before I was done… Weighing my options,” you said.

Semi put the cup to his lips but set it back down on his knee when an attempt to drink was thwarted by the remnants of his laughter leaving his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking your free hand in his without thinking about it.

You shook your head, curling your fingers around his hand. “I got a free concert tee out of it, so it wasn’t such a bad deal. And I got to talk to you again because of the shirt too, so who’s the real winner here?”

Right.

The press had caught sight of you in a shirt that obviously belonged to someone else that they wanted some dirt on, and they had a field day chasing you after midnight on your way home from a pilot shoot because of it. His manager had come up with the idea of pretending to be romantically involved with each other because of it. His manager pitched this wild but not entirely unheard-of idea to your manager because of it. You, among all the people from his label and from your agency, had agreed to the ruse of dating him because of it.

As you said, he had gotten many chances to get to know you and be close to you because of it.

Never mind the fact that the drama the two of you were in was your first leading role and he was most likely collateral damage as your secondary love interest from being the frontman in an up-and-coming band. Never mind the fact that you would’ve seen him around anyway, with the pretend dating thing in place or not because of filming some scenes with him for the drama.

It was like whatever was going on between you and him was a drama too.

“I normally don’t wear blue because I think it makes me look pale as a zombie, but your concert tee’s just the right blue!”

If this was a drama, Semi wanted to be your main love interest, with you as the leading role.

(It could be that because you liked that shade of blue, all the concert tees he’ll wear in the future will be that exact blue, just so you could steal it from him again.)

[purpleqilinwrites]

welcome!

hewwo! welcome to my blog.

this is the navigation page.

about me

you can call me kaija! i'm an adult (20+), and i prefer they/them pronouns.

currently:

reading now i rise by kiersten white (35%)

watching first love (90%) and king the land (60%)

listening to even heaven by aimer

blog info

this is a sfw blog! i also write in gender-neutral reader by default.

i'm not taking requests at the moment, but suggestions and chitchat are always welcome! ❤

you can also find me on ao3.

fandoms: black clover, dungeon meshi, genshin impact, haikyuu!!, jujutsu kaisen

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[purpleqilinwrites]

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#[genre] || this is how you can find all the things i've written in a specific genre. tags currently in use: #angst; #fluff; #general

#longfic: [longfic acronym] || this is how you can find all the things i've written for a specific longfic. tag currently in use: #longfic: tui

#series: [series acronym] || this is how you can find all the things i've written for a specific series. tag currently in use: #series: yhhom

#cw: [content warning] || this is how you can find or avoid all the works that contain content that is a possible trigger. tag currently in use: #cw: alcohol; #cw: suicide

content masterlists

#masterlist: main || this is the tag for the main masterlist for all my writing.

#masterlist: [fandom] || this is the tag for the masterlists for a specific fandom. tags currently in use: #masterlist: black clover; #masterlist: genshin impact; #masterlist: haikyuu!!; #masterlist: jujutsu kaisen

#masterlist: [event] || this is the tag for the masterlists for a specific event. tag currently in use: #masterlist: au-gust 2021; #masterlist: fluff-vember 2023

#masterlist: [longfic / series acronym] || this is the tag for the masterlists for a specific longfic or series. tags currently in use: #masterlist: yhhom; #masterlist: tui

miscellaneous

event-specific tags. tag currently in use: #codexsecretsanta