WAIT NO I SWEAR I REMEMBER YOU FROM SOMEWHERE AND I KEEP ON CHECKING YOUR PROFILE AND WONDERING IF YOUR

spent the whole day binging the apothecary diaries s1. i forgot i had homework. time to lock in.

“ill watch your lie in april in april so its fitting!” i lie to myself as i rewatch saiki k

valentines with choso <3

wc: 1.5k (i yapped too hard)

cw: kms exaggeration/joke

Choso knew he liked you the moment you walked into class.

He knew he was in love with you the moment you sat beside him. Asked for his name. Got his number. All of that.

Seriously, when was the last time a girl he knew from no where asked him for stuff like this? And a pretty one at that?

He couldn’t help but have you in his mind from time to time. 

And you couldn’t either.

He was, objectively, cute. You loved his hairstyle instantly when you saw it. Spacebuns?! In a university class? Sign me up. 

You soon began loving more parts of him the more time you spent with him. The tattoo on the bridge of his nose? The rough eyebags? You hoped he didn’t catch you staring all the time, because holy this man was hot.

You were intrigued. You wanted to know more about him, so you talked to him.

Was it a talking stage? Or did he think of you guys as just friends? Is it normal to be enjoying someone’s company this much? 

You both had your own friends, and your own social circles. But as you and Choso grew closer, they slowly realized what was going on.

His friends were jealous that he got a girl before them, no matter how many times Choso tried to insist you guys weren’t dating. Your friends were ecstatic over the fact that you finally tried seeking a relationship, no matter how many times you said you guys were “just friends.”

But the teasing of your friends didn’t drive you guys apart. It didn’t make you guys be embarrassed to hang out with the other. It might of even made you like each other more.

So when the chill of fall slowly turned into the biting cold of winter, you found yourself coming over and hanging out at his place a lot, and the same vice versa. 

Watching movies, laughing together. On one occasion, you did Choso’s unique hairstyle for him and you put little stickers and hairclips on him. The picture of him in the cute little get up was secretly your home screen wallpaper. It was too cute, him wearing a scrunched up expression because of the tackiness of the accessories. 

Your friends say that you’re dumb as hell.

His friends say that he’s an idiot.

Just about anyone could see the romantic tension between you two, yet neither you nor Choso would admit it out loud to each other. Left to pine in “secret”. 

₊˚⊹♡

Soon enough, February 14th was getting a little too close, and you were panicking if you should ask Choso out.

That was basically a confession. And you didn’t want to make the first step. What if he thought of you guys as only friends? What if the teasing from his friends were just a joke? 

You spent a lot of the time in your day overthinking. Choso saw during the classes you had together, you always seemed preoccupied with something in your head, and never really looking at him directly in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

Now he was overthinking. Did you not like him anymore?

The class was spent with you two together in silence, staring into the polished wood of the desk, lost in your own thoughts.

Thursday, February 13th felt like you had the most pressure in your life. It felt more than just 4 assignments all due on the same day. It felt more than two tests back to back that you didn’t study for.

You decided that you were going to ask him out. You were going to be brave, say “Do you want to be my valentine?” on text, then power off your phone and bury yourself alive.

A great plan. Foolproof, maybe. 

But what would you do after? If he said yes, you didn’t even have any chocolates or teddy bears to give, and now you just seem like a total loser and a leech. 

But what if he said no? Now, you just lost a valuable friendship and someone who made going through each day just a little easier.

You flopped down onto your bed. It was so tiring, thinking and planning and worrying. 

Yes, you needed to think this through. But now, you should just go to sleep and be indecisive in the morning, and not late at night. That was way more doable than asking someone out.

Choso, on the other hand, was in the same predicament as you.

Same “What if?’s”, same “But’s ” were also plaguing Choso’s brain. But Choso was more prepared. He already had his chocolates, with the same brand you loved. He had his small plushie, which was your favorite animal. It was annoying to get them, as he needed to hide them from his peeking friends and, of course, you.

Yet, he had no plan on how to present them to you, and how to even ask you. Would he just go blunt? No, that will make it seem like he put zero effort into it and just wanted someone with him on Valentines Day. A long, heartfelt message would be too tacky, but it would certainly be romantic, only if you returned the feelings. It would be awfully embarrassing if you didn’t like him in the first place.

He covered his face in his hands. Seriously, why did it have to be so hard?

He should man up, for gods sake. Just ask you and get on with his day, whether or not you said no or yes. Rejection is something everybody should experience. 

But he couldn’t take rejection, especially not from you. He didn’t want to take the risk of losing the friendship that was so precious to both of you guys.

But he bought the chocolates. And he already liked you for about 5 months.

It was now or never.

₊˚⊹♡

Choso was about to kill himself. 

Sorry, exaggeration. He was about to bash his head against the wall.

He sent the text. Dear God, why did he send that? And why did he let it just stay? Why didn’t he just unsend it right away? 

Was it for the hopes that you would actually get to see it? 

Well, now it was too late to go back. The text message is forever engraved into the data of his phone and yours. 

Stupid, stupid text message. Did his fingers have to hit send?

It was supposed to be him practicing sending that. Type out the message, then delete it. Paraphrase his sentences before actually sending it. 

There was no possible way he sent a text message that looked that desperate.

Choso slouched onto his bed and groaned, throwing his phone across his desk.

It had already been 15 minutes. That dragged into another hour. Then two hours. Then it was almost midnight and you still haven’t even opened the message yet.

Choso was panicking internally. You would’ve checked your messages at least once during the four hours that had passed. 

Have you already read the message by looking at the notification? Were you so disgusted by the fact he asked you out that you completely neglected to respond?

His hands were in his hair, pulling at the shoulder-length strands. 

Seriously, how much of a dumbass did he have to be?

He couldn’t sleep much that night. He was half awake, overthinking and looking over to see if his phone screen had lit up. But it was always just a random notification, coming from an app Choso barely used anymore. He sighed and turned his phone off, spending the rest of the night not catching a wink of sleep.

₊˚⊹♡

Luckily for you, he asked first.

And luckily for him, you agreed.

You only saw his message in the morning of Valentines. Of course, you immediately replied yes, saving Choso from spending another sleepless hour after seeing his message get left on delivered.

The few seconds after replying to that message felt a little unreal. You collapsed onto your bed, unable to stop smiling. 

You did it.

You were going on a date with one of the best people you knew. The one you not-so silently chased all these months.

Life was perfect right now. You didn’t want anything to change, not after this one.

₊˚⊹♡

Six PM. Friday. 

To say you were excited wouldn’t be accurate.

Actually, it was more of a jittery nervousness. 

You wondered why, actually. Why were you nervous meeting up with a guy you were friends with for almost this whole year?

He opened the door before you could finish gathering your thoughts. 

You looked up. 

Perfect.

He was perfect, just like how you saw him your first class the day you met. Perfect, with his signature hairstyle, never once changing it. He looked the same as if this was just a regular hangout you guys had almost everyday.

As if it’s anything like that.

You greeted him nervously and stepped inside.

He returned the favor, looking just as bit as awkward as you felt. 

Shit, what if confessing to you made you guys as awkward as strangers now? 

But it didn’t.

The rest of the night went smoothly with him. The one you were half-chasing since the start of the school year. 

You couldn’t be anymore happier. 

And Choso couldn’t either.

a/n

happy valentines day guys!!

got lazy writing the last part

and it got way too long so i had to delete some parts of it

thx for reading sigmas!

dividers by @.enchanthings-a @.saradika-graphics

snore mimimimi

ive been neglecting unrequited terrifying hopefully i can finish writing it and editing it this week hopefully

succumed to the urges finally got spotify premium FUCK YOU I HATE SPOTIFY (sometimes) but id rather get premium and pay $13 than hear some guy asmr burping in my ears every two songs

don't be mad

akaashi couldn’t be nonchalant as people made him out to be.

NOTE. Inspired by @/nethsukii’s post from TikTok!

Everyone always assumed Akaashi was the most level-headed person in the room, nonchalant in some cases, the calm voice amongst the chaos, the unshakeable setter with cool eyes and a brain that always operated two steps ahead.

That reputation didn’t change when he got a girlfriend—it intensified. People whispered about how lucky you were to have someone so composed, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent, and stable. A boyfriend who wouldn’t raise his voice, who’d remember anniversaries without being reminded, who’d bring you tea when you had cramps, and listen to you vent without interrupting.

And okay—yes. Two of those things were completely true.

But the “nonchalant” part? That one was a bit misleading.

Because if you asked Bokuto, or Konoha, or literally any of Akaashi’s closer friends, they’d tell you: he’s anything but nonchalant when it comes to you. Sure, he looks calm, but beneath that is a man whose brain short-circuits when you so much as bat your eyelashes at him thrice rather than twice. He’s an intense romantic disguised as a stoic intellectual. And the intensity isn’t dramatic or grand—it’s absurdly, endearingly specific.

“Did you know you sneeze in three stages?”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your grilled cheese sandwich. “What?”

Akaashi, seated across from you at his kitchen counter, wore his usual composed expression. His glasses slid a bit down his nose, but he didn’t push them up. He was too focused on you. “Three stages,” he repeated. “You do this little build-up thing first—your eyebrows scrunch, your nose wiggles like a bunny, and then you hold your breath for a second. That’s stage one.”

You stared at him with an expression of genuine confusion. “You studied my sneeze?”

“I observe,” he corrected smoothly, reaching for his cup of tea like this was just another normal afternoon conversation and not borderline concerning.

“Stage two is the sneeze itself. It’s never dainty. It’s loud. Forceful. Passionate.”

“That’s a weird adjective.”

“Am I wrong?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes?” You looked down at your sandwich. “I… don’t know how to properly respond to that.”

Akaashi gave the faintest smile, his eyes flickering with mischief. “Stage three is the little sigh you do afterward. Like you just survived a great war. Then you sniff once and pretend it didn’t just shake the room.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, “but it’s endearing. You sneeze like a bazooka. It’s adorable.”

“No one’s ever called a bazooka adorable.”

“I’m a trailblazer,” he said matter-of-factly.

-

There were his journal entries—yes, journal entries—about you. You found one once by accident, tucked between a book of poetry and a volleyball strategy book. He didn’t write about major milestones like one might expect. No, you found out your boyfriend documented the way your nose crinkled when you lied, or how your left hand twitches a little when you were anxious.

There was an entire paragraph dedicated to the way you wrapped your scarf, how it was “disarmingly efficient, yet always crooked to the left, like her heart’s trying to lean on someone without asking.”

Who says that?

Akaashi Keiji, apparently.

He once paused mid-sentence in a phone call with Bokuto because you, half-asleep and grumpy, had mumbled something unintelligible from the other room (you had come over for a project and fell asleep after lunch). “She sounds like a disgruntled possum when she’s waking up,” he said dreamily. “It’s charming.”

...

“Akaashi. You okay?”

“More than okay.”

-

Akaashi even adjusted his wardrobe—not that he admitted it. You mentioned once, half-joking, that he looked really good in dark green, and suddenly half of his winter clothes were moss, olive, or emerald. You caught on when he started showing up with sleeves rolled halfway up because you once muttered something about liking the veins in his arms.

“Yum,” you murmur, squeezing his triceps before bursting into a fit of laughter after realizing how embarrassing you’re acting.

But you learned long ago that there was never such a thing as too embarrassing when Akaashi acted the same, if not to a greater degree. He wasn’t nonchalant. Not even close. He was... silly.

A helpless romantic who never made grand proclamations or public gestures but instead memorized the oddest, most mundane things about you like it was part of some sacred text.

And yet, he wasn’t clingy nor weird to the point of you being uncomfortable. He knows your boundaries well. He wasn’t overbearing or overly expressive. He just noticed. Quietly, constantly, lovingly. He didn’t tell you he loved you every day in words, but he knew the way you curled your pinky when you drank from your mug.

He knew you got cold at 3 a.m. even in the summer and always made sure a blanket was within reach. He noticed when you rewatched the same ten-minute section of your favorite show because you liked the background music.

He remembered the exact number of sugars you took in your coffee and the fact that your favorite mug was slightly chipped, but you used it anyway because it was a gift from your cousin. He once stopped mid-sentence while talking to Bokuto on the phone just to say, “She’s humming the Sailor Moon theme in the shower again,” with a fondness so full it made Bokuto gag.

Man, he was whole-body deep into loving you.

-

How Akaashi often spends a lot of time thinking about things that weren’t even that serious.

Like how, that one time, you laughed at someone else’s joke for a few seconds longer than how he’d normally get from you. He doesn’t even get jealous when someone’s flirting with you because he knows—you know—and you’re both trusting of one another.

But to hear you laugh for 1.7 seconds longer?

You might as well give up now, because this man is persistent.

“Are you seriously keeping time now?” you asked, laughing at his behavior.

“Yes, my dad raised me to be competitive.”

“Don’t bring him into this, Keiji,” you laughed.

He looked at you as if you hung the moon and individually painted the stars in the beautiful night sky itself. “You’re very pretty,” he says. “I think I might experience a heart attack.”

You hugged him so hard you nearly knocked his glasses off.

-

When you painted your nails—usually some soft pastel or neutral tone—he would watch intently, chin in his hand like an art critic evaluating a masterpiece. At first, you thought he was just being polite (to try and appear interested, since guys don’t usually find interest in these sorts of things), but when you noticed the way he always commented on the color and style like it was a whole personality trait, you realized it wasn’t an act.

“Oh, that shade of sage green,” he murmured once. “It makes your fingers look like they’ve been kissed by a forest spirit.”

“What does that even mean?” You laughed.

He blinked, entirely serious. “It’s a compliment.”

“Keiji, I told you. If you’re going through something, you tell me—not just like—act this way.” As a joke, of course.

He laughed too.

Eventually, Akaashi started doing them for you. It began as a fleeting thought—you had been painting your left hand with your non-dominant one, struggling to keep it clean, when he silently plucked the brush from you and started painting with delicate strokes.

“You’re going to mess it up,” you warned.

“I have steady hands,” he said with all the gravitas of a surgeon. “We did this in Home Economics, remember?”

“...Yeah.”

From then on, it became a quiet ritual. You’d sit in his lap or next to him on the bed while he carefully painted your nails (he prefers the first one but isn’t shameless enough to tell you most of the time), brows furrowed in concentration, tongue sometimes poking out as he focused too hard. And every time he picked a color, it came with an elaborate reason.

“This one reminds me of the sky right after it rains in early spring. Soft, muted, but a little hopeful.”

You’d pretend to roll your eyes, but your heart would always flutter. Because you won the boyfriend lottery with him.

Akaashi was just built like that. When you two cooked together, he’d narrate what you were doing like it was a documentary on divine beings. “And now, the goddess stirs the pot, bestowing warmth and nourishment unto mankind.”

“Stop it,” you giggled, flicking water at him. “Don’t narrate it like that. You’re making it sound like a case study.”

“But it’s fun,” he says with a smile.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m so in love with you.”

And he truly is.

And you believe him.

Akaashi wasn’t nonchalant. He was soft-spoken, yes. Composed, yes. But behind that calm exterior was a boy with a mind full of your quirks and a heart that was overflowing with enough love to swallow you whole. And somehow, that made you feel even more lucky than you already were.

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REYA OMG MY R MENTIONED????!!!?? THE YELLOW CARDIGAN?? THE BRAIDS??? WHAT

konton boogie

the hype is over but its still in me forever

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