Ok It’s Working But My Text Is Black And Won’t Turn To White.

i broke into ur brain just to call u out in this quiz (but in a soft way). how does it feel to be loved by u?

osamu + “we’re fake dating! why did you tell them we were engaged?!” for @amarinthe thanks for requesting this! it's probably one of my favourite prompts

the moment you open your front door, you kind of regret it.

because while your totally hot neighbour is standing in your doorway in his dark jeans and fitted black t-shirt glory, you’re rocking shorts and an unreasonably large sweatshirt.

“osamu,” you blink, tugging the hem of your shirt down a little. “hey.”

“hey,” he replies with a smile that makes your knees weak, holding up a takeout bag. “i brought some onigiri home. wanna share?”

thinking about the instant ramen currently boiling on your stovetop, you couldn’t possibly refuse his offer (especially if it’s from miya osamu, whose very successful restaurant is quite literally across the street).

so you open your door wider, letting him step inside and slip his shoes off while you move into the kitchen, placing two plates on the counter.

“so, how was your day?” he asks, unpacking the setting two onigiri on each plate. “anything interesting happen?”

you slide into the stool next to him, swinging your legs lightly as you munch on happily on the food. “not particularly, you?”

“actually, yeah,” he starts, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair (you think it’s unfair, how good it still looks, even after spending all day smushed under a baseball cap). “my ma called today.”

“your ma?” you hum through a mouthful of salmon and rice. “what’d she say?”

he picks disinterestedly at the seaweed on his onigiri. “she, uh, asked that i visit home for dinner tomorrow night.”

“that’s sounds fun,” you start, pausing when he visibly grimaces. “unless it’s...not?”

“my brother’s bringin’ his girl again,” he shrugs. “and i know that means ma’s gonna be on my ass about why i’m not datin’.”

“yeah, i’ve had that conversation with my parents before,” you shudder, patting his shoulder in understanding. “the future, grandchildren, the passive-aggressive judgement from siblings. you should just call and say you’re sick.”

“can’t,” he sighs heavily. “i already cancelled twice. she may disown me if i skip a third time, or worse, show up at my place.”

it’d probably be funny, you think, seeing mama and brother miya across the hall, bugging osamu. “then maybe you should bring someone,” you suggest off-handedly. “just to keep them off your back a little. when was the last time you went on a date?”

when he doesn’t answer, your happy chewing slows, and you glance over at him. “jeez, that long ago? i thought you had more game than that, miya.”

a slow grin spread across his face when he meets your gaze. “last time i went out with someone was...four months ago, actually.”

“four months ago? that was around when we—” your eyes widen slightly, heat spreading to your cheeks. “oh. that...was not a date. that was a slightly intoxicated but very satisfying sexual exchange between friends.”

osamu chuckles, ducking his head a little and making those eyes at you (the ones that’d lured you into fucking him on your living room floor at two in the morning). “maybe don’t bring that up when ya meet my mom.”

“excuse me?” you laugh. “you cannot bring me home to meet your family.”

“why not?” he questions, looking genuinely confused. “you’re the one who suggested it. it’s just for one night anyway.”

“i just can’t!” you insist, looking at him incredulously. “i’d be nervous even if we were dating. what if they ask questions about--”

“i’ll give you free onigiri for a month.”

_____

“so, how did the two of you meet?” osamu’s mother asks as she pours you a generous glass of wine.

you freeze, blinking a few times. when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

(it’s funny how, on the hour-long drive to hyogo, the two of you hadn’t discussed any basic information about your relationship. instead, you’d spent your time debating the best taylor swift album and making fun of the other tenants in your building.)

you almost flinch when someone places a hand on the small of your back, but relax when osamu’s faint cologne meets your senses. “actually it was the day after she moved in next door,” he says. “i brought some onigiri over because she’d asked me that morning where the closest grocery store was so i figured…”

you smile fondly, recalling the day you’d run into him at the mailboxes, and he’d shown up a few hours later with food. he’d claimed they were just leftovers even though it was mid-afternoon.

“i can’t believe you remember that,” you murmur.

he hums quietly, gaze flicking over your face briefly. “i guess it’s just when i knew.”

you’re sure that your heart stutters in your chest. surely he’d stolen that from some cheesy romance flick?

“how long have you two been together?” his mother follows up with, glancing between the two of you expectantly, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“eight months,” you say.

“almost a year,” osamu answers at the same time.

across from you, atsumu hides a smile behind his glass of water.

“i mean, who’s counting?” you laugh, quick to recover, reaching over to your ‘boyfriend’ blindly, meaning to pat his shoulder but instead catching him on the cheek. “time flies when you’re in love.”

you turn to stare at osamu when you feel him clasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingers, lips curling against them.

your stomach flutters a little at the gesture.

“‘tsumu,” he continues, redirecting the conversation. he rests your clasped hands on the table, thumb brushing the back of yours gently. “i thought you were bringing your girlfriend.”

“oh, she’s at her place doin’ some packing,” he answers easily. “she’s movin’ in next week.”

“that’s great news!” their mother beams, osamu’s hand tightening around yours as he blurts,

“yeah, well, we’re engaged!”

this time, you choke on your bite of chicken, almost hacking up a lung as you whip your head towards your neighbour/friend/fake boyfriend turned fake fiancé.

he shoots you a pleading gaze as he rubs firm circles on your back, and when you finally dislodge that traitorous piece of meat, you draw a slow breath and sigh. “babe, i thought we were going to wait until you made it official.” you lift your left hand, pointing at your empty ring finger before turning back to his mother and brother. “do you mind if we step away for a second?”

they both wave you off, and you snatch osamu’s wrist, dragging him out the back door, making sure it’s shut tight before you whisper-shout,

“we are fake dating! why would you tell them that we were engaged?”

he rubs his hands down his face, groaning. “i’m sorry, i panicked! it’s just that when atsumu mentioned moving in i got weirdly competitive because we’re twins—”

“so naturally you told your mother we were getting married? what’s next, atsumu mentions a joint bank account and you tell them that i’m pregnant?”

osamu lowers his hands to peek at you. “can i actually do that?”

“no! this is so not worth the free onigiri!” you growl, smacking him on the shoulder a few times, osamu yelling in protest.

(inside, atsumu and their mother peek out the kitchen window to watch the both of you, the latter murmuring, ‘definitely engaged.’)

_____

“you cannot tell that story in your toast,” you laugh, three years later with a very real engagement ring on your finger.

“why not?” osamu whines, completely invading your side of the bed to wrap his arms around you. “it’s how we got together, isn’t it?”

“by lying to your family.”

“soon to be your family,” he reminds you happily. “and i didn’t have to lie and tell them you were pregnant.”

imma let y’all know right now that if KOSA gets signed in, Trump’s gonna win.

tagging: @nhixxx-s @smolmo + anyone else who wants to

i wanted to start a lil pic crew tag! here’s da link

i’m gonna tag!!! @j0succ + @plums-princess + @bizarrenina + @moonbeamwritings + @jostepherjoestar but anyone else can join!

if i was a star and you were a star i would wink at you and blink at you and twinkle at you and the earthlings would call it science.

i am so fucking tired. and i don’t want to go to sleep. fuck this i’m done

omg ur iwa love language *chef kiss* so good! could u do bf head cannons for him like suga? i would loveeee to know ur thots!

tysm !!! of course <3

NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI

college bf vibes!! the cute boy you see in the library a couple times and play a game of ‘who can catch each other staring first’ with. you don’t really think it’ll go anywhere— his face is stony as he works, not just concentrated, but his brows are furrowed together in a frown and you’re honestly terrified to talk to him. but one day he trails after you as you leave and asks you if you’re free to get lunch and obviously you say yes because he’s super tall and handsome and pretty and he’s flashing you a cocky smile that you don’t expect

he’s intimidating at first, has this confidence about him that kinda makes you shrink. but one time you accidentally tease him and immediately regret it because it’s borderline an insult… until he responds with something equally as ‘mean’ and you realise he can take some teasing

i’m trying to say he flirts by making fun of you. and it’s even better because you can reciprocate it just as well

your relationship is mostly casual. you don’t say it out loud but he’s just a college boyfriend. one you stay up til 4am texting and steal clothes from and have picnic dates with on campus. you go to some parties together, he takes care of you when you get way too wasted. dating him is fun, but it’s not really an ‘i can’t see myself without you in my life or in my future’ relationship

…until iwaizumi falls. he’s over at your apartment for a date one evening. you’d cooked a pizza from scratch together, giggling as you threw on way too many toppings for it to turn out in any way consumable, then fell asleep on his chest before you could eat it. peering down at you as you slept was the greatest mistake he had ever made. oh shit, he thinks and his body is warm and his heart and stomach are all tingly and it hits him— he’s a goner.

it’s not long before you’re meeting one another’s family, taking vacations together, looking at apartments, having long conversations about getting a cat. in the blink of an eye iwaizumi goes from just another boyfriend of yours to the love of your life

he’s very much a ‘start the day at 7am to go on a run’ guy, but sometimes you can convince him to stay in bed with you. also the best thing about waking up two hours after him is that you always wake up to breakfast

i don’t think he has an extremely high sex drive but when he fucks you he puts his soul into it. eats you out like he’s been starving for years, grasps your tits like they’re a lifeline, thrusts his cock in and out of you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever have to get his dick wet

brat tamer no doubt. he has no trouble keeping you in check, always full of quips that make you back down when you get too mouthy. he’s not afraid to tell you off in front of other people, either. “stop being such a brat,” he scolds when you get a little too close to oikawa. “but it was an accident!” you insist, but he knows damn well it wasn’t

loves shoving his cock down your throat n facefucking you with no mercy <3 he calls you his pretty girl when your mascara leaves black tracks down your cheeks

spits in your mouth after he eats you out because he asks if you want a taste and you say yes

wraps his hand around your throat when he kisses you from behind

talked abt this more here but he’s always giving you massages and helping you do stretches because he wants you to be healthy <3 he’s so sweet and caring <3 it’s definitely not because he can split you in half on his cock when he helps you get more flexible <3

blows your back out and then gives you a massage to make up for it

…he gets jealous easily and will make sure people know you’re his girl. hand on your ass or your thigh at all times, the love bites on your neck on full display, whispers in your ear when he knows people are looking. he just can’t help it, he doesn’t wanna share you :(

you don’t wanna share him either. how could you possibly share your six foot, beefy, broody (sometimes), smart, athletic sweetheart of a boyfriend with anyone?

please donate to sami’s family if you can. the cruelty of israel allowing palestinians to have false hope with the “ceasefire” only to tear the rug out from under them can’t be understated—and that’s in addition to the murder, rape, torture, and more committed by israel day in and day out. sami’s family has already been through far too much. consider using “little treat” money on a suffering family.

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

iwaizumi’s driving both of you home—

and there was a part of you that thought, just maybe, tonight would be the night that he would propose. and maybe it was all just silly, to let the thought twirl around in your little head until it fell on the floor in front of you.

maybe you would say it shattered—all over your heels and the dress you know he likes and the floor of his buick.

and maybe, because every single one of your thoughts seems to start with that right now, maybe this is all just a little bit your fault. there were so many of those nights, curled into the sheets of your bed, the taste of liquor still resting on both of your tongues, that you’d asked him if he’d ever marry you.

and back then, he said yes. he’d laugh, an arm resting above his head, the other holding your lower back—his fingers would dip beneath your clothes and leave little searing paths of what you could only call home, but it was all to hold you close. his hand kept you steady atop of him, legs twined together, your chin resting on his chest.

but you could feel the laughter bloom in his chest and tumble past his lips, an absolutely sure to follow his tongue.

but then a few weeks would pass, five years of dating, both of you just past the age of 23 now, and you’d ask again. and maybe it had started the same, the same laughter, the same reply, the same graze of fingertips against flesh. and maybe the reply had never really changed, beyond a question of didn’t you ask this last week? or why wouldn’t i want to marry you?

but maybe that did it. maybe it finally got him thinking about all the reasons he shouldn’t marry you, and those started pile up until suddenly the cost-benefit analysis of it all didn’t really seem to stack in your favor.

because tonight, when you’re both now settled in 24, you thought would be the night. and if it wasn’t tonight—well, you don’t think it’s going to happen at all. and, of course, you’re driving home. so part of you is starting to accept this as your last drive home with iwaizumi. no matter how much it hurts.

he’s been playing a bit of beach rock on the radio, those old little tunes that you’d picked up through your college years, but it’s quiet and hardly does anything to mask the silence of the car. he’s not tapping his thumb against the steering wheel—he’s hardly spoken for most of the night, and back at the restaurant and on your walk around the pier, you’d put that all down as him being nervous.

who knows what the hell to think of it now.

you take a breath and smooth out the material of your dress as you roll to a stop at a light. it’s the one that iwaizumi hates—a gross intersection with too long of a red, and no one really ever seems to understand the design of it all, so he’s always been one to avoid this light when he can—but he’s here now, and you watch him stretch his hands on the wheel and tap his fingers against it in one little rhythmic motion. it’s not to the song, and you know it’s the motion he does when he’s about to say something.

and you, desperately, want it all to stop. because you know the next words out of his mouth are going to be somewhere along the lines of maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore or i’ve been thinking about this for a while, or maybe it’ll just be your name. but you know it’s nothing good and if you let him speak, then it ruins it all. if you let iwaizumi say your name you’re sure that your soul will escape with every last breath you give to him.

if you let him say your name, you’re sure that with it, he’ll take every last memory you could muster—the air from your lungs, every whisper he’s ever laid across your skin, every murmur of affection that you savored behind those closed doors.

if you let him say your name, it’ll all be gone, and you want to stay in his stupid buick for a moment longer as his girlfriend, even if it means prolonging the inevitable.

so you scan the cars around you, you look at the crosswalk until you see someone—a middle-aged man, a neon green cap on his head and orange sneakers hitting the pavement. iwaizumi takes a breath to say something, and you know he’s always hated being interrupted but god you don’t think you can stand not doing it now.

“man, what’s that guy wearing?” you say. it sounds less half-hearted than it feels. there’s a lilt to your voice and, if you couldn’t feel the weight in your chest, you’re sure it would sound like you’re clueless. you point to the man at the crosswalk, and iwaizumi’s gaze flicks there for only a moment before settling back on you.

“babe-”

“no, really, who would’ve guessed that neon was making such a comeback,” you interrupt again, and you hate it. it sounds unnatural, like there’s a joke somewhere in there that you just can’t find yet—and you both know you won’t ever get the chance to say it.

iwaizumi tries again.

“i’ve been thinking-”

“well i guess we can really see him in the dark-”

and iwaizumi says your name.

you’ve always hated the way time catches up to you.

you stop criticizing the poor man on the crosswalk, and then look over at iwaizumi—hajime as you’ve called him for years now, as you’ve said under the quake of your breath and between lilts of ardor.

you hum in reply to him, let the embarrassment of it all melt beneath his gaze, hope that maybe this break-up won’t be as bad as you always thought it would be. that he won’t be the one that got away for the rest of your life, that you won’t say his name in moonlight, starlight, and sunlight, hoping some divine power will hear it all and bring him back to you. more deeply, you hope you won’t have to move on without him—that the life you’ve built with him, from your home, to your friends, to your damn wardrobe won’t all burn to ash.

he takes a breath, he says your name again.

“hajime, what’s wro-”

“dammit, i’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

the red of the stoplight is reflecting on his face, the car smells a little like his cologne, and iwaizumi is looking at you—hands still tapping against the wheel.

“what?”

you watch the tips of his ears turn red as they start to blend in with the light. he turns back to the road, swallows and lets his tongue poke at his cheeks as he breathes again.

“sorry, that was-” he sighs, “not how i wanted to do that.”

you want to laugh at him a little bit, to let it all shake out of you in a quick moment of relief, but there’s a stutter in your chest that you can’t quite let go. it holds you close and churns your heart and your lungs until you can’t be sure what part of you is burning the most.

so you choose to whisper.

“how did you want to do it?”

and then iwaizumi laughs.

“preferably, a year ago.” you eye him. “i didn’t want you to think i was doing it just because you kept asking.”

you look forward to the light, you beg it not to turn green with everything you have—you hope with all that it’s worth that iwaizumi can hate this intersection for just a little longer.

“and what about tonight?”

he sighs again, in his old man way that you’ve always teased him for, and then he leans back—one hand on the wheel, the other finding its way to your thigh.

“at first, when you were getting ready. and then on the way to the restaurant, and again when you picked that one piece of broccoli off my plate, and then at the end of the pier, when you pulled me to the railing.” he laughs a little bit, and then his thumb rubs into your skin. “i didn’t know what to say, i just knew i wanted to ask you to marry me.”

the light turns green, and without ever really thinking about it, you say no. 

it’s not to him, it’s to the light and the situation of all things, but as he starts to drive you watch the blood drain from his face.

“what?” he asks, and you want to crawl into something much worse than just a hole in the ground.

“no, not like- sorry it was the light- yes, yes i want to marry you.”

“the damn stoplight made you say no to my proposal?” he asks, and though there’s that bit of scolding in his tone, you can feel the laughter rising in his voice as he speaks.

“no it wasn’t like that! you dick, i-”

“yeah, yeah, whatever, i’ll just return the ring then-”

“the ring?”

you both pause, and iwaizumi keeps driving, but he takes his hand off of you and, a little awkwardly, you might add, reaches into the pocket of his slacks—desperately trying to stay the speed limit (or, a little over), the whole time. 

but he pulls out a little black box and gestures towards you, and then flips it open with his thumb.

“i wasn’t kidding,” he starts, and then glances over at you. “marry me.”

and maybe you were right before. with just your name, iwaizumi could pull your soul and everything it carries with it out of your body. and maybe, in all that he is, you give it to him if only he were to ask—memories, whispers, murmurs, you’d give it all with only the raise of his brow.

“yes,” you reply. “of course.”

iwaizumi smiles, and at the next red light (one he hates just a little less, where the wait’s a little shorter and the intersection just a little less confusing), he puts the ring on your finger. and at that red light, he kisses you until you have to tell him it’s green.