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lemurzsquad · 45 minutes
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"Hey 'Samu. What's up?"
"Sorry ta bother ya Sunarin, I know yer packin' but yer roommate had a stressful day and is uh," Osamu clears his throat, "not safe ta get home. I'd drive but my car's-"
"In the shop, I know." Suna sighs and there's a soft jingle of keys. "I'll be there soon."
Osamu clears the bottles of sake off the counter cleaning around your slumped, sleeping form. He softly nudges you. "Sunarin's on his way ta get ya home."
You whimper pathetically, words slurring, "i'snot gonna be his homemuch longer."
Osamu feels a pang of his own pain.
It was bittersweet, his best friend being recruited by a division one team. He was mostly overjoyed and proud, knowing how long Suna had been playing volleyball, but a small part of him hurt because it meant his best friend moving away.
He knows Suna's always going to be his best friend so the distance won't damage their friendship but you...
His employee, the first one he hired who's been working for and with him since the beginning
Who got to know Suna from his frequent visits and became friends, accepting the spare room he offered when your old lease was up...
You don't have that history with Suna. Though you celebrated with him just as hard as Osamu, the part that hurts over him leaving is much larger.
After a few nasty customers today Osamu offered you a drink as you closed up. It quickly escalated as you poured your heart out and swore him to secrecy at the same time.
Osamu lets Suna in when he knocks and watches the middle blocker help you to your feet, draping one of your arms over his shoulders as he wraps one of his around your waist.
"What's gonna happen when you leave? Osamu asks quietly.
Suna snorts. "You're gonna need a bedroll in the office."
Osamu shakes his head. "No, Rin." He motions to you with his chin. "What happens...when you leave?"
Suna searches his friend's expression, not answering.
Osamu holds the door and keeps his promise, keeps your secret, but simply offers. "I think ya need ta talk about it."
Suna tucks you into the front seat, Osamu's words replaying in his head as he drives home, you slumped against the door in sleep.
"Suna!" You jump. "You scared me, I didn't see you there." You try to laugh it off, the surprise of finding him standing in the dark as you take out Onigiri Miya's trash, but you're clutching your chest. He can see through your false bravado. "What uh...what's up? Why are you standing out here like a creep?"
"I...got drafted."
You raise your brow and smirk. "What by the army?"
Normally he'd quip back but his heads spinning too much. "No. By EJP Raijon."
"Oh." Your expression clears in shock. "Oh damn, like drafted, drafted."
"Yeah." He shifts his gym bag.
"We'll that's, that's great right? That's what you were hoping for!"
"I guess." He shrugs.
"Tch, what do you mean you guess!" You grab his arm and drag him inside announcing to the whole restaurant that your roommate was going to play professional volleyball.
After one too many jokes that night about having to find a new roommate he started to get frustrated but when he asks "is that all you think of me? Your roommate?"
You stutter.
He'll never admit that his heart stopped beating in the few seconds it took you to answer.
"N-No, you're my f-you're my friend." You blink owlishly under his gaze and he wonders what else he could have been searching for.
Nothing.
Nothing happens, he already knows nothing happens when he leaves.
He helps you into the apartment and you robotically leave your shoes by the door and shuffle past the kitchen but you don't go to your room.
Eyes closed you sleepwalk into his room.
He quickly kicks his shoes off and chases after you with a gentle call of your name but you pull out of his grasp.
"Leavemelone Samu," you groan. "Jus lemme go tobed."
"I'm trying but this isn't your bed," he protests handling you far more patiently than he would anyone else.
Your features crumple like you're going to cry and you're still slipping out of his hands. "Yesi'is..." Your bottom lip trembles. "Sunasgone Samu, an' imtaking his room."
He stands helplessly in the middle of his own room as you climb into his bed, under his covers and wrap yourself tightly. He sees how you bury your nose in the blanket and inhale.
"Stil'smels like him, too..." You exhale shakily like you're still on the verge of tears. "Imnot gonna tell him he left this either..." Your breathing evens out as you drift. "...I's all I'll have to 'member him..."
Suna feels a strange pain in his chest as he watches your lips slack open.
You stretch, twisting your wrists as you flex your arms straight, and yawn. You slept surprisingly well given the last thing you remember is falling asleep on the counter at Onigiri Miya but your horizontal orientation clearly means you're in bed. And when you open your eyes and take in the piles of moving boxes you realize you're not in your own room.
Cringing in embarrassment you tiptoe out of bed, pausing at the door until you know the apartment's empty, you scurry to the bathroom.
After the longest shower you can stand, you get dressed to find your soon-to-be ex-roommate moving boxes closer to the door.
He regards you with his usual smirk. "Morning sleeping beauty."
There's a rush of heat to your cheeks and you don't know what to do with your hands. "I-I'm so sorry about last night."
"Which part?" He teasingly asks "the part where I had to drive all the way to Onigiri Miya to pick you up or the part where you stole my bed?"
You grimace. "Both."
"Don't worry about it," he chuckles dryly.
"Do you want any help?" you offer, doubting your ability to actually be helpful to a professional athlete and he smirks, thinking the same thing.
"Nah, I'm good." He goes back to his room and looks around, patting his pockets, before picking up the last box and adding it to the stack by the door. "The mover's are parking now."
You nod and try to stay out of the way as his things are moved out. As the last box is taken he goes back to his room and brings out a small cardboard box.
"Here."
Your brow dips as he hands the box to you. "What's this?"
He shrugs, dropping his keys on the counter for you. "Just a small going-away present."
"Oh, but I don't have..." Your words fade when he shakes his head.
"I'm good." He holds your gaze in his strange quiet intensity. "Take care of yourself."
"You-You too, Rin."
With the box in your arms you don't have to overthink giving him a hug versus a handshake or something equally awkward. He just waves once, leaves,
And you're alone.
Still holding the box you numbly shuffle into his room, taking in the vast emptiness from corner to corner.
Outside the moving truck rumbles, loudly at first until it drives off, leaving you in quiet.
You slowly sit down on Suna's bare floor and let yourself cry. You're going to miss the movie nights, shared meals, incessant jokes...
You're going to miss your old roommate...but he was never just your roommate, was he? From the moment he walked into Onigiri Miya you had been in love. And becoming his roommate, seeing him walk from the bathroom to his bedroom in just a towel, the way he would leave a cup of coffee on the counter for you in the mornings...only made you fall harder. Fall deeper.
But he was out of your league and your boss's best friend...so you never wanted to risk what you had.
Wiping tears and snot from your face you open the box, the sight of his blanket sending another wave of tears crashing down.
You pull it out and wrap it around yourself, crying harder, as a letter with your name in his scrappy writing falls out.
Hands shaking you pick it up and read:
I'm in love with you. I've loved you for a long time and was hoping you'd ask me to stay but you'd never do that, would you? Because you're a good person who supports me but I can tell you with 100% certainty that if the roles were reversed I wouldn't do the same for you.
You unfold the paper and something extra falls out. You absentmindedly lift it up as you read the end:
I know I'm moving and all but...I'm still gonna need a roommate....
Speechlessly you look at the extra thing, heart racing as you see it's an airline voucher.
...And I'd like that to be you.
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lemurzsquad · 3 hours
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haikyuu is so funny because people look at kageyama and are like,, this guy's gaze is so sharp, he's so intense, wtf is that aura,, and kageyama is literally thinking about how he cant wait to see the new t shirts in stock
im not even reaching, this legit happened
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lemurzsquad · 3 hours
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lemurzsquad · 3 hours
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🍙🩵
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lemurzsquad · 4 hours
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you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya
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pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw
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The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.
No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.
Devastated. 
Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose. 
He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry. 
Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.
The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell. 
Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself. 
The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.
The ball lands.
On his side of the net.
He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.
Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview. 
And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early. 
Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—
“Atsumu?” 
He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.
Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.) 
No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.
Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.  
“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving. 
Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him? 
He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door. 
“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.
His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water. 
“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner. 
You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him. 
You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with. 
“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself. 
“Look at me.” 
His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him. 
He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.
“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you. 
Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,
“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”
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lemurzsquad · 4 hours
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When you want to get work done you need a goldilocks environment: not too loud, not too quiet.
Home is too loud thanks to your housemates.
The library, too quiet. You need at least a little noise otherwise you hear too much of your own mind.
The dining hall can work in a pinch but the ideal place?
The campus coffee shop.
With aesthetic lighting, bubbling but gentle conversation, and easily accessible caffeine it is the perfect spot.
And when your mind needs a moment to breathe? You can people-watch. An endless variety pass through with an occasional a sprinkle of drama. Most of the time it's just other students trying to get work done, like you, or relax like the tall blonde with glasses at the table next to you.
He's tense. Despite your manners you're curious why. The smile he gives the girl with him, whose hand he's holding, is loving so you assume it's not her.
And then another blonde man walks in. Similar heights, same hair color. If you took off the glasses and aged him up a smidge they'd be identical.
His brother.
The younger--Tsuki as his affectionate older brother calls him much to his displeasure--doesn't get up.
He gives a stiff wave as his older brother takes the seat on the other side of the small table.
The older brother seems...kind. Not overly animated but friendly and warm. After a few minutes of conversation she gets comfortable.
'Tsuki' does not.
The brothers' dynamic has done nothing to help you focus and you decide it's a good time to get another drink, reset yourself.
Leaving your books on the table you get in line. Someone step ups behind you a few moments later.
"Excuse me?" You glance up over your shoulder into the older brother's kind eyes. "Do you have any recommendations? It's my first time here and I don't know what to get."
Resisting the urge to ask any questions, you offer a few ideas.
The barista calls you up before he can thank you and, when you give your order, he asks for one of the same.
He quickly reaches around you to pay; his money's in the barista's hands before you can object.
"Thank you..." You give him a questioning quirk of your brow as the two of you step to the side. "Why did you do that, though?"
He sheepishly shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. "Fishing for good karma?" He smiles and there's a hint of sadness in it. "I'm meeting my brother's girlfriend for the first time and I'm..."
"Nervous?" you offer unjudgmentally. He nods.
"Yeah." He sighs. "We're not close..."
"But you want to be." This time he gives you a curious look and you sheepishly smile. "Sorry...I noticed you guys at the table next to me."
There's a brush of color across his cheeks and a shy, cute smile. He admits "I noticed you, too. I'm Tsukishima Akiteru."
You offer your name, mirroring his smile as your orders are called.
"Good luck with your brother," you whisper encouragingly as you part ways to your separate tables.
He grins.
Feeling guilty for snooping before, and with fresh liquid focus, you get back into the flow of work.
Akiteru's visit seems to go well after that.
He's still there when you finish your coffee. You've made enough progress for now.
The three of them get up as you start packing your books.
Akiteru bids his brother, who looks considerably more calm, and his girlfriend good-bye with a wave as he hangs back.
"Went well?" you ask, breaking the ice for him as he timidly walks up.
"It went great. Thanks for the good karma," he says with his warm smile and you feel yourself naturally smiling back. "Here."
He hands you a napkin with his name and number.
"In case I need some good karma next time?" you playfully ask.
He laughs. "Or dinner. Whatever you'd like." With a final charming smile he waves and leaves.
When you put his number in your phone you can't resist;
You save him as Goldilocks.
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lemurzsquad · 6 hours
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Hq sillies !! (Ignore Zoro)
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lemurzsquad · 7 hours
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i miss him
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lemurzsquad · 12 hours
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Good morning, ladies🌹
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lemurzsquad · 12 hours
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so this came to my head :)))
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lemurzsquad · 12 hours
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Lol my amazing Slay the Princess "screenshot"
Tagging: @dira333 @animetrashandotheraesthetics if y'all wanna join in on the silliness lol
Found this on Twitter, so I thought, why not posting it here and doing a tag game 😊
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Ok, I’ll go first
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If he is the reason, I’d go to prison gladly 🥰❤️‍🔥
Tagging: @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @nic-214 @milkyway-ashes @dr-radiation @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @sunsetdaydreamer @therockywhorerpictureshow @delicatelyfantasticninja and everyone 😊
Sorry if I forgot to tag some of you!
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lemurzsquad · 22 hours
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As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:
I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you
I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you
I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you
I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase
I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all
I love you
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lemurzsquad · 1 day
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my piece for @monsterballzine 💥
leftover sales are still open!
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lemurzsquad · 1 day
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gave them period cramps
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lemurzsquad · 1 day
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lemurzsquad · 1 day
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I've never drawn Akaashi before…🦉✨
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lemurzsquad · 1 day
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Empty Morning
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Expression practice :3
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If Tanjiro were an animal 👀
Based off of this design by Kimboltar T
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Some sort of racoon-dog 🤷‍♀️❤
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