Hi!! This Is My First Time Requesting Anything So It Might Be Really Awkward Or Wierd(sorry If It Makes

i hate smau’s where it’s like

“pranking so-and-so that you cheated” or “pranking so-and-so with the ‘they’re gone come over’ text” like???

it gives me straight, white, youtube couple vibes and NOT in a good way

like that’s just a shitty prank? i’d literally never do that to a s/o that’s just shitty

hey guys so apparently this is a thing a lot of people don't realise but like. if you have had writer's block/ art block for like. six months. a year. two years. that's maybe not a block. that's maybe depression. and you should maybe look into treating the source of the problem instead of just beating yourself up for not being able to write/draw. be kind to yourself and know that your struggle to create isn't based in laziness or a lack of skill or talent.

sleepy boi

HE IS SO ADORABLE SAJKDBAklfbfs

episode 4 of apothecary diaries— the threat— i think is and always will be my favorite

maomao smacking the shit out of the stupid ladies in waiting??? music to my ears

𝒯𝓈𝓊𝒷𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑜 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝒰𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓎𝒶

𝒜/𝒩: Completely inspired by the "After Midnight" prompt that @stunie wrote for Tsubakino x Reader. I was re-listening to the song and the "I wanna kiss your boyfriend if you don't mind" had me thinking... Umemiya.

The club lights were low, the music blaring. At this rate you couldn’t even make out the lyrics, and your once fruity drink was watered down to a sad state.

There were a decent amount of people around; dancing, laughing, drinking. Yet you never felt as alone as you did now.

Your boyfriend— your friend? Your date.

Your date had ditched you a bit ago, a rushed apology that’d he be back, an aggressive kiss to the cheek, and you smiled, unable to respond before he was gone.

Five minutes turned into ten.

Ten into twenty.

Twenty into thirty.

At this rate you’d been sitting here alone longer than you’d been there with him. You shouldn’t be surprised, he had a knack for ghosting you in the middle of a week or ditching you on a scheduled date— hang out?

“Don’t tell me he’s done it again?”

It took you a moment to process that those words were directed to you, and you looked up from where you had been counting water droplets on the cup to see Tsubaki, a pout on his lipstick covered lips.

“Tsubaki?”

He sat down next to you, throwing his hair back over his shoulder, leaning so he was pressed against you, “Did he ditch you?”

You nodded sadly, pointing to where he was stood: a group of his friends surrounding him. There were some guys you had met briefly, having the displeasure of hearing their comments about you, and some new pretty faces. Girls that were leaning on him, leaning to be closer to him. The sight didn’t even break your heart anymore, so used to this same old song.

Tsubaki clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed at the group, before he turned his gaze back to you, “I’m sorry pretty girl,” He reached forward, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers brushing the underside of your jaw with a feather like pressure, “You deserve better than him.”

You took in a shaky breath, smiling weakly at him with a shrug, “It’s… not like we’re official yet,” He frowned at the word ‘yet’ but let you continue, “So he’s just…”

He was just what? Dragging you places outside of your comfort zone just to ditch you? Flirting with other girls in front of you before telling you behind closed doors they meant nothing to him?

Tsubaki seemed to think for a second, before grinning, a sly look on his face. The music grew louder, and he leaned forward, lips so close to your ear.

“I have an idea,” He sang the sentence quietly, his warm breath tickling your skin, and you couldn’t fight the shiver that ran up your spine.

Before you could ask he was moving, standing up and grabbing your hand. He pulled you forward, helping you stumble out of your seat.

“Ah— Tsubaki! What are we—”

You glanced back at your table, not missing the watery drink you left behind, glancing further to see your movement had caught the attention of your not-so-date.

You stopped abruptly, almost tripping over yourself as Tsubaki came to a stop, giggling to himself as he helped steady you.

“Ume-chan!” You glanced around him, see Umemiya nursing a drink.

He glanced up, setting the drink down with a smile, soft eyes glancing your way. You saw a flicker of surprise before it went away.

Tsubaki moved you to stand in front of him, leaning against your back, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder as he spoke.

“Her date ditched her,” You winced at how bluntly it was put but, it was the truth.

Umemiya frowned at that, head tilting, “The same guy?”

“The same one,” You could hear the pout in Tsubaki’s voice, and you opened your mouth, to argue or defend him, you weren’t sure, but he continued.

“He left our poor girl sitting all alone.”

“He— he didn’t— he said he’d be coming back.” Even to yourself your argument sounded weak.

Unemiya frowned, making eye contact with Tsubaki. There was a moment of silence, before the frown on his face morphed into one of a small smile.

“Ume-chan,” Tsubaki moved the two of you, pushing you closer to where Umemiya was sat, “I had a brilliant idea.”

“Oh?” He sounded amused, leaning against his palm, looking up at the two of you, “Go on.”

“Well,” He shifted, moving so he could easily make eye contact with you, “How about you accompany us instead? I promise you, you’ll have a much better time with us than you would with him.”

Your cheeks burned at the meaning behind his words, and you glanced from him to Umemiya, whose smile hadn’t faded once. His eyes were bright, despite being half-lidded as he watched the two of you silently.

“I,” You swallowed, “I don’t know…”

Truth is you did know, the moment Tsubaki had taken your hand to lead you away from the table. The moment his attention was unwaveringly on you, you were ready to leave with him, follow him anywhere. Your heart felt like it was trying to beat out of your chest.

“We won’t do anything you won’t like,” Coming from Umemiya it sounded like a promise, his voice deep and sincere, “Just say the word and we’ll stop.”

You squeaked in surprise, Tsubaki giggling from where he had blown cool air against your neck, lips hovering mere centimeters from your skin.

“You can say no, and we’ll walk you home right now,” He said, pressing a quick kiss below your ear, chast and sweet, “But if you say yes,” His voice was sweet, practically dripping with honey.

You licked your lips, anticipation and nerves bubbling in your stomach. You risked a glance back, your date, not having moved from his group, but his eyes were trained on you. He looked upset, he looked angry.

A part of you liked that; that he was angry by your attention being taken by others. But the bigger part of you didn’t care. He had abandoned you time and time again, played with your heart by avoiding placing a label on whatever it was you two were.

You turned back, feeling your heart jump when you realized Umemiya hadn’t stopped looking at you. You know your voice would leave you, so you nodded, a firm look on your face.

Tsubaki squealed in your ear, his arms tightening around you. His lips pressed against your cheek, and he peppered you with quick, little kisses, his lipstick staining your cheek as he moved closer to the edge of your lips.

In a whirlwind of movements, you found yourself sandwiched between Umemiya and Tsubaki in the booth they had been seated in. You were practically leaned back onto Ume, one of his arms resting on the back of the booth, caging you in. Tsubaki was angled to be in front of you, hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek bone.

“You’re so beautiful,” His little compliment came out like a sigh, “Too beautiful to be treated like that.”

You felt more than heard Umemiya chuckle, voice closer to your ear than you thought, “We’d never abandon you like that,” Tsubaki hummed in agreement, “A guy like him doesn’t deserve you.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t respond— you don’t even know what you would have said in response.

Tsubaki leaned forward, and your eyes shut automatically, his lips pressing against yours firmly. He tasted like a mixture of cherries and vodka, his lipstick sticky and sweet. You sighed into the kiss, and he giggled, deepening it slowly.

He was warm against you, and your insides felt like they were on fire. It felt good, better than any quick kiss or fast make out session your old-date subjected you to.

By the time Tsubaki pulled back you were out of breath. Cheeks flushed and lips lightly swollen, holding the same shade of lipstick that Tsubaki wore. He smiled, thumb swiping against your bottom lip, lingering for a beat.

“Such a pretty girl…”

You couldn’t fight the whimper that left your lips, pupils blown as you stared at him. He smiled, “Better not let Ume-chan feel left out.”

You were shifted, man-handled as if you weighed almost nothing, turning to face Umemiya. His gaze was dark, eyes trained on your lips. Tsubaki was behind you, a warm and solid force, grounding you.

Umemiya hummed, “Red’s a good look on you,” Before he leaned in.

Kissing Umemiya was different. Tsubaki tasted as sweet as he kissed, lips soft and smooth. Umemiya tasted like alcohol, a deep and warm flavor that took over your senses. Kissing Tsubaki was fun and breathtaking, kissing Umemiya stole your breath.

It was no question whether he was in control of the kiss, deepening it slowly, invading all your senses slowly. Kissing him felt like an eternity, but he pulled back only a minute later, a thin line of spit connecting between your lips.

If you were any more in your senses you would have been embarrassed.

Your face felt like it was on fire, panting quietly between them. Tsubaki giggled in your ear, “Better than your ex-date, huh?”

You nodded, voice cracking as you quietly agreed, “So much better.”

A/N: i began! panicking about my writing at the end! and my brain stopped working! so i’m so sorry if it sucked! >.<

it’s my birthday :3

Nekoma x Reader; manager!reader

You Won’t Be Alone

“You need to join a club— something. Anything!”

Your parents' concerns rang loud in your head. It wasn’t your fault you had to move schools in the beginning of your second year. You had friends, you had clubs and things you participated in. Now you had nothing. A few friendly classmates, sure, but that was all.

Clubs were almost entirely filled at this rate anyways, and anyone that was still accepting members meant you had to go meet new people who already formed their own groups. You’d be the outcast, more than you already felt like you were.

Idly, you kicked at a rock that was laying on the ground beneath your feet; you were trying to kill time, hoping to brainstorm some solution before you made your way home.

The art club? There were some mediums you were decent at, but you also saw some of the showcases from other students— safe to say that club had some artists that would most definitely be studied in the future.

What about the literature club? While you enjoyed reading, something about reading at school made the notion far less fun. Not to mention you had met the club leader earlier that month, and while nice, she was intimidating.

Grumbling to yourself, you stopped walking, leaning against one of the building's walls, watching birds fly overhead. They cawed at each other, and the group in the sky made you feel more alone.

Great, you mused, jealous of birds now.

Your thought process was interrupted, rather sharply, as you watched a ball come flying out of the building you had been leaning against. Lucky for you, you were nowhere near the door— the speed at which the ball hit the dirt would have definitely bruised you.

Pushing forward, you decided to be a decent person, picking the ball up and moving slowly to the open gym door. You hadn’t made a point to pay attention to any of the teams your school had, not out of disdain but mostly fear.

If you showed any interest your dad would definitely force you to partake in some way.

“Um,” You stopped at the entrance of the door, holding the ball tightly in your arms, watching as the people before you continued moving.

Volleyball.

One of the people, one of the coaches you supposed, noticed you, coming over to retrieve the ball.

“Thank you,” He spoke softly, smiling at you, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, “They’ve been a bit overzealous lately.”

You nodded, handing the ball over, your eyes drifting back to those practicing.

You recognized one of them, some of them were in your year.

Fukanaga Shohei. You and he weren’t close by any means, but he was funny.

“They’re good, aren’t they?”

The coach's voice made you jump, cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring.

“Oh— I’m sorry!” You turned, bowing in an apology, “I just…”

He smiled at you, “I’m coach Naoi.”

You introduced yourself, “Second year. I actually just transferred here a few weeks ago.”

“I hope the school’s been treating you well.”

You smiled, “No complaints yet.”

“Oi, Naoi!” The pair of you turned, the older coach having caught on to his assistant being distracted, “Care to invite your guest in?”

His shouting caused the team to look over, a lul in their practice as they took in the presence of an outsider. Your face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh— no! I’m so sorry! I was just returning a ball!”

Naoi chuckled, “One second,” He turned to you, eyebrow raising slightly, “You can come watch if you want.”

“I— I wouldn’t want to impose,” You crossed your arms, still feeling the gaze of the team on you.

“Are we getting a manager?” The question sounded more like a shout, and one of the members clutched his chest rather dramatically, “Take that Karasuno!”

“If you don’t scare her off with your shouting,” He either hadn’t heard the dig aimed at him or didn’t care.

Cautiously, you removed your sneakers, sock covered feet against the floor beneath you as you followed behind coach Naoi, keeping your gaze lowered.

“Well?” The older coach turned his attention back to his team, “Get on with it! Yamamoto, get up.”

You took a seat next to him, shoes laid across your lap, bag pressed close to your calves.

“Coach Nekomata,” He introduced himself to you, barely taking his attention from his team, “You join any clubs yet?”

“Oh, uh,” You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, “No. Not yet. I haven’t found a good fit yet.”

“Lev, your receives still suck.”

“Yaku!”

You focused your attention forward, watching as the taller guy, one you somehow hadn’t noticed yet, got scolded, his shoulders drooping into himself.

“You have any interest in volleyball?”

You side eyed the man, his posture relaxed and unbothered, and you heard Naoi sigh from your other side.

“I… think it’s an interesting sport.”

“Oh?” He sounded amused, “Just interesting?”

You watched the balls fly around the court, people yelling out praises or playful insults at one another, “Yeah. Only ever seen it on TV a few times.”

“Hm,” He nodded, saying nothing more.

The three of you lapsed into silence, merely watching as the warmups switched, and you felt yourself losing tension in your body. Watching them was entertaining, the way they played and talked— they made it look fun.

They were all drenched in sweat, heavy breathing, some of their forearms looked red as did their knees. But they were smiling and laughing, though winded they may be.

“Yamamoto, the loudmouth, is right in his own way,” Coach Nekomata’s voice seemed to snap you back to reality, and you turned to look at him curiously, finding his attention already on you, “We could use a manager. Lord knows I could use the help with these hard heads.”

“Kenma, set it up!”

The one that had shouted when you came in was, once again, shouting. You didn’t know how to respond to the coach, so you turned, watching as the one with longer dyed hair set the ball, and the loudmouth, Yamamoto, went running forward.

He jumped, and in a split second, hit the ball over the net, the sound echoing in the gym, and you swore you felt the air from the ball move your hair.

“Woah,” You almost whispered the simple praise to yourself, unaware of the smug look on Coach Nekomata’s face, and the bemused one on Coach Naoi’s.

You licked your lips, turning away from where Yamamoto was singing his own praises, “Would I learn?”

You clarified, “If I… became a manager. I’d have to learn how volleyball works, first. Then how to actually be a good manager. I— I don’t have experience with either of those.”

Nekomata smiled at you, a kind look on his face, “Our team does one thing best above all else— connecting. If you become our manager, you wouldn’t be learning on your own, you won’t be alone. This I promise.”

You sighed, looking back towards the court. They seemed to be taking a small break, the unnamed members talking and joking, the one who had set the ball was getting his hair messed with, though he looked annoyed, he didn’t move away to stop it.

You won’t be alone.

That sounded… nice.

“How do I apply?”

me starting dandadan: haha gotta find this guy’s balls lmao

me finishing episode 7:

who knew all took to save anime was autistic protagonists with weirdly specific hyperfixations (thank you laois dunmeshi, frieren, and maomao apothecary diaries)

me, when classes are started: god i can’t wait till classes are over!

me, when classes are over: i’m so bored, i can’t wait till classes are started!