so basically i moved almost a week ago? n it’s been hectic n also the reason why ive had no motivation to write/make smaus. Anywho it’s v different neighborhood than my last, but i genuinely enjoy it more i dunno it’s more cultured. Although the only thing is we’re closer now to apart of [redacted college] campus so i’ll see how that goes.
This what i think bakugou's room looks like. Very minimalist. Throw in some weight for exercising somewhere, an all might poster on the wall and his fave figurine too on the desk.
I think he'd also have LED lights but like hidden under his desk or behind his bed
it was a tie neither of them won…
sakusa and osamu are currently fighting outside miyas kitchen bc osamu feels like sakusa replaced him in my top selfships…(WHICH I HAVENT.)
thinking about iwaizumi
sent tweet
THE HELL WHY DO I CLIFFHANGER MY OWN DREAMS BY WAKING UP NOOOO
i genuinely think i might just delete cherrysurf and sojumica entirely eventually
whenever I like your self ship posts, please imagine me holding up pompoms and yelling "YEAH!!!!" every time.
@dearru been thinking abt weird akaashi x cool girl mak whos also weird deep down rn
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 ♡
akaashi keiji x f!reader
you and your boyfriend are no strangers to overthinking — so when your period doesn't arrive on time, you take turns calming each other down.
"I'm late." Akaashi lifted his head from the manuscript he was editing, his glasses strewn haphazardly across his face. You were standing in the threshold of your shared study, having just returned from your second anxiety-induced bathroom break of the night.
Your boyfriend of five years turned in his creaky swivel chair to face the calendar tacked on the leftmost wall of the room, littered in neon post-it notes and defaced by both of your penmanships — Akaashi's short and slanted, yours perfectly proportioned.
Ever the editor, he said, "But I thought your draft wasn't due until next week." Being a romance author and dating a literary editor certainly had its perks, but in this moment, you couldn't decide whether to feel distressed or endeared by his misinterpretation. You took a deep breath and tried again.
"...not that kind of late."
It took him a second to understand. But when he finally did, the brain fog immediately cleared from his eyes.
"Oh — oh," he said, setting down his red pen and standing from his desk. "You're absolutely sure?"
You nodded. "Three days, to be exact."
Ever since you and Akaashi had started dating your senior year of college, you had been tracking your periods in hopes of preventing an unplanned pregnancy. You were both open to having kids — after all, you two were arguably the most responsible ones in your friend group, and baby fever passed between the two of you as easily as the common cold. But neither of you expected to have a child this early into your careers, and the mere idea was enough to make you feel queasy.
"Hey, hey," Akaashi interjected gently, reading the expression on your face like an open book. He walked around his cluttered desk and pulled you into his arms. "It's okay. I know we both have a tendency to overthink —"
"A great trait to pass onto a baby," you volleyed back.
"But if you really are pregnant, we would handle it," he continued, however amused by your quit wit. He tucked your head beneath his chin. "We'd ask all the right questions, read all the right parenting books. I'll hold your hand when your get your blood drawn, even though it makes me want to collapse."
Despite yourself, you chuckled at that.
"Besides," he added. "We practically raise Bokuto together already."
You were laughing even harder now, the waves of anxiety flooding your chest now subsiding, if only for a moment. Akaashi was the only one capable of doing that.
"Ugh," you cried, pulling away from him to massage your tired eyes. "How did this even happen?"
"I think you know perfectly well how this happened."
"Of course, I know," you drawled. "But we had a plan. A well-thought-out, career-oriented plan. You would go to grad school, I would publish a few more novels —"
"All of which we can still do if we become parents," Akaashi replied, taking both of your hands into his. "Y/N, I am well-aware of the fact that we both love planning our lives to a tee. In fact, your thoughtfulness and attention-to-detail are what I love most about you."
Your face flushed at his affectionate words.
"But maybe it would save us both the mental energy to let life surprise us every once in a while," he finished.
"With a baby?"
"With anything! Including the possibility of a baby." He pushed your hair of our of face and looked at you in sheer adoration. "I love you, Y/N. There is no other person I'd want to become a parent with. So while an unplanned pregnancy sounds daunting, I will be right there with you. We'd figure it out. Together."
Perhaps it was the steady confidence in his eyes — or the potential pregnancy hormones coursing through your bloodstream, but you started to cry. Taken aback, Akaashi immediately took you back into his arms.
"D-Did I say something wrong?" he stammered. You shook your head against his chest as you wept.
"No. No, you said everything right," you reassured him. "God, if this actually happens, Keiji, you're going to be an incredible parent."
Now it was his turn to get emotional.
You turned off the lamps at your respective desks and headed to the pharmacy two blocks away from your apartment, the sidewalks bustling with native bar-hoppers and starry-eyed tourists. You'd both walked this path several times before and had always returned with a bundle of items: Red Bull, microwave popcorn, the occasional pack of condoms. But never a pregnancy test. "Is there a specific brand that gives you the most accurate results?" Akaashi asked, immediately pulling out his phone to do some research in the middle of the family planning aisle. "It says here that digital pregnancy tests are generally considered more accurate, but you can get a pack of three analog tests for nearly half the price..."
He paced up-and-down the rows of tests, comparing and cross-referencing them like he did each of his authors' drafts.
"I mean, why don't we just buy them all? It can't hurt to cover all the bases," he murmured, grabbing one of each brand from the shelf and dumping them into your open arms.
"Keiji," you laughed, amused by how serious he was about all of this. "Don't you think we're being a little hasty?"
"You're right," your boyfriend said, shaking his head. "I haven't even checked the expiration dates on any of these — "
"No, that's not what I meant," you repeated firmly, meeting his frazzled gaze with your now-steady one. "I think we should buy only one pack. Your pick."
He looked at you as if you'd just suggested he dive off a steep cliff. "Are you sure?" "Yes," you promised him. "I don't even think I have enough pee for all the pregnancy tests I'm holding right now." His shoulders slumped from the steep drop in adrenaline, and he pressed his lips into a tight, nervous line before admitting, "I just want to make sure I'm doing everything right." "You already are," you reassured him, shifting all of the pregnancy tests over to one arm and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with the other. "You don't need to overthink whether or not you're doing a great job, because you are. I wouldn't have let you possibly impregnate me if you weren't."
He released a shaky sigh, a sheepish smile on his face as he asked, "Can I still consult Google reviews?"
After finally selecting a pregnancy test and a pint of ice cream to share, you and Akaashi paid for your items and walked back to your apartment arm-in-arm.
"Do you remember the day we met?" he asked, the sounds of the city rumbling between you as you walked.
"Of course I remember. I wanted the last desk in the front row of our senior writing seminar, but someone got there before me," you said teasingly. "Though I think it was for the best. I developed a crush on the back of your head almost instantly."
"You did not."
"I'm not even kidding. I'm pretty sure I based all of my fictional love interests on you that year."
"That I picked up on."
"You did not."
He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I had to ask Bokuto to read your stories because I thought I was insanely self-absorbed for suspecting you'd base any character off of me. I'd never had anyone describe me so accurately. So...deeply," he confessed. "I was flattered. Truly."
You couldn't help the blush creeping up your neck. "I guess that's what I get, asking my crush to peer-review my work."
He bent down to press his lips to your temple. "I'm glad you did."
You climbed the stairs back to your apartment and unlocked the door, the small space crowded by stacks of books and half-empty mugs. You imagined what it would be like to rearrange the furniture to make room for a crib, what it would be like for you and Akaashi to read to your baby all the books you'd loved as children. The mere idea was enough to make your eyes well up again.
God, you thought to yourself, tearing open the box of pregnancy tests and inspecting the thick packet of instructions. Would you actually be disappointed if this test came back negative?
"I'll be right here if you need me," Akaashi said, gesturing to the couch. You nodded, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.
After five minutes of working yourself up to peeing on the stick and another two of actually doing it, you ushered your boyfriend back into the bathroom. You'd placed the test face-down beside the sink, not wanting to know the results without him. Your heart hammered violently as you considered this piece of plastic's inane ability to tell your entire future in just a few measly lines.
"Hey," Akaashi reassured you for the millionth time that night, intertwining your hand in his. "No matter the outcome, I've got you."
"I know." You nodded. "I've got you, too."
His expression softened. "You ready?"
"Yeah," you said, and you meant it. After all, Akaashi Keiji had spent the past five years holding your heart with more patience and consideration you ever thought you deserved, and you had dedicated yourself fully to doing the same for him. You took care of each other amidst all anxieties. That alone was enough to assure you that, whatever the future held, you would be just fine.
Squeezing each other's hand one last time, you took a deep breath, reached for the pregnancy test, and turned it over. @miyasmagnolias, 2025
❝ CLICK LIKE ❞ — itoshi sae
tags. mostly written with smau elements, f!reader, model!reader, fluff, ignore timestamps and that the texts still say yogurtkags LOL i made it before the url change → wc: 1.4k
your first meeting with sae comes with a change of heart on the side
masterlist
it's uncharacteristic for you to be this jittery at a gig but all the telltale signs are there, your knee bouncing like it has a built-in spring, you're fiddling with your rings and picking at your nails. if you didnt already have your makeup done you'd be chewing at your lip but your stylist would rip you a new one and that's not something you want to handle on top of your heightened senses right now.
you play it off well, looking more impatient than anything, but to say that you’re nervous going into this shoot is an understatement. it's not that you aren’t confident you can do a good job, far from it, but rather how working with someone like itoshi sae will be like.
he’s good at what he does, don’t get it twisted, but let’s just say that based on word of mouth, he doesn’t seem like the nicest person around.
you’re not one for sports, at most just a casual viewer knowing as little about soccer as the next person, just eleven on a side kicking a ball across a field of grass, but you know him. everyone does, he’s itoshi sae, japan’s national treasure and world class soccer player.
but this isn't your first rodeo, and having years of experience under your belt yourself, you're highly sought after in your own right. you've modelled with countless other athletes in the past for other brand campaigns, but this is different. it's more editorial, less athleisure, more your scene than his and you're not sure how it's going to go, much less with someone who seems totally disinterested and a potential nightmare to work with. it’s not like you to judge a book by its cover, but something about him makes you a little weary, it’s like you can’t get a read on him, and that leaves you slightly unsettled.
as you look at him in your peripheral vision, you can't deny that the way he carries himself commands attention in a busy room. even in his quiet disposition and seemingly being out of his own territory, there's an air of confidence that surrounds him. the very thing that you can't put a pin on, it's reeling you in and you can't bring yourself to look away.
until you see him start walking up to you.
if he noticed the way your gaze lingered on his figure as he made his way over, he doesn’t mention it, but the slightest upward quirk to his lips is more than enough to imply it, and there’s nothing more that you wish for right now than for the ground beneath you to swallow you whole.
there's a subtle hint of recognition in his sharp teal eyes as he stops before you, reaching a hand out for a polite handshake, "hi, nice to meet you."
you knew he was already dolled up in his outfit from afar but now up close, he looks good, and you try not to let that distract you.
you return a smile in kind, calm and composed, tailored and professional, hand stretching out to meet his, “likewise, itoshi-san.”
things fall into plan pretty smoothly once the shoot begins, sae surprisingly keeping up with the pace and taking it in stride considering his inexperience, save for some poses where he needs a little more guidance. it's light work for you seeing how you're in your element, picking up what the photographer is putting down effortlessly, your initial nerves now simmered down as you get into the zone, but you see his stiff maneuvers and unsure eyes, understanding how this may be a little tricky for him, unnatural.
you find yourself taking the lead and helping him make subtle adjustments to his posture, slipping into a position of guidance naturally. it's what you would've wanted if you were in his shoes and as much as the tabloids have clouded your first impressions of him, his cluelessness and uncertainty on set is oddly endearing.
"here, lean a little bit more to this side? yeah, and relax your shoulders. that's it!"
he comes up to you during short breaks, and the veil covering your eyes slowly tears as you realise that he's asking for advice. the usual nonchalant expression on his face is replaced with a slight bashfulness, tinted with the faintest shade of pink. it's a far cry from the self-assuredness that you're used to seeing on his face on pictures online, and it warms your heart that he's allowing himself to be humble and taking the first step to reach out for help.
it soothes your weariness that as time passes, you find that he's not what you expected at all. he's polite, kind even, and unbelievably professional. his resilience persists in a field that's not his own and he adapts quickly, you feel the tension slowly easing in his movements as the shoot progresses, the hand on your arm sure in it's placement.
"am i doing this right?" he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper as he reclines beneath your frame leaning over him.
you nod to affirm him, shooting a glance to the photographer who signals you to lean in closer. bringing your eyes back to sae, you're taken aback to see him looking at you with an intensity that wasn't there before, all-seeing and almost soul-questioning. with the distance between you just mere inches, his features are much more apparent, drawn to the way his lower eyelashes brush against his under eyes beautifully.
no, this can't do. a pose of this likeness should be executed like second nature for you, but this feels almost too personal. your eyes fall shut in an attempt to refocus and reset your state of mind, pretending that the image of his stare doesn't burn into the back of your eyelids, only to fly open when you hear the photographer exclaim.
"perfect! hold that pose— no no keep your eyes closed!”
it’s safe to say that the rest of the shoot goes without a hitch. between outfit changes and small talk during hair and makeup touchups, you find yourself engaging in mindless chatter with sae, talking about little things from his favourite team jersey kit to what flowers you like. it’s surreal how the one person you were almost dreading to see ended up being one of your more enjoyable co-models, finding it easy to slip into conversation once you dropped your projected misgivings about him.
he’s reserved, yes, but not obnoxious and flirty like some of the others you’ve worked with and it’s a pleasant change of pace. he’s an attentive listener on topics he doesn’t quite understand on a personal level, but quick to explain more of his world in a simplified way for you to digest. it makes you wonder why the media has him portrayed in such a way, it’s nothing like what you’re experiencing firsthand, perhaps they just didn’t take the time to get to know him. you don’t entertain thoughts that just maybe, he chooses to show these sides to you.
in the middle of your shy recount of your very first gig, his manager politely interrupts to inform sae that he needs to stop by the association before this evening’s practice, much to your disappointment and what looks like his too, seeing the furrow of his eyebrow for the first time today.
“it was nice meeting you itoshi-san—”
“please, call me sae.”
the gesture paints a wide-eyed surprise on your face that brings a small smile to his lips, and you bid him goodbye with a wave and warmed cheeks you’re hoping to god the powdered blush can mask.
sae.
your shared chemistry continues to linger in your mind for the following days, and weeks later on a quiet day, your ears latch onto his name on the news program you have playing in the background while you’re doing laundry at home.
your phone chimes twice in quick succession with a like notification from said man on the shot you chose to post from the shoot, and a text from your agent. you can’t help but smile at the former, knowing simply how rare it is to get acknowledgment from the most chronically-not-online person you have the pleasure of knowing.
what intrigues you more is the string of messages from your agent.
your mind wanders and the cogs click, gears turning as you ponder about who this could possibly be. it can’t be, right? the timing has to be purely coincidental, but a small voice in your mind hopes it’s who you’re thinking of.
and true enough, your suspicions are confirmed with a fast-beating heart the next day when a bouquet of beautiful flowers are placed in your arms, bearing blooming blossoms you recognise as ones you distinctly recall mentioning to a certain someone were your favourite.
that sweet, sly bastard.
taglist. open (link to form) @saucejar @somniosu @returntothefae @daisy-room @stellar-headquarters
@whatisnureotypical @haruhi269 @ayatakanosstuff @cyxjz @irethepotato
notes. @shouyuus and i spent one fine day absolutely spiralling over this man and that conversation solidified that he deserved a place in the mansion smh WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER he has taken over my mind in an absolutely diabolical way
© inloveinsickness. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.