RedAzar

Tsukishima always keeps his appearance of someone who is irritated. There's a simple reason for that -- it's because he is irritated. There's a long list of reasons why to go along with it, as well. Though, it would serve to only annoy him more if he were to list them all mentally. The list begins to grow as he watches a particular figure (one that just so happened to be you), continue talking. Boy, could you talk. Those lips that he secretly admires have been running nonstop, constantly spilling words. Most of them weren't all that important, mainly things relating to your lunch, random animals, and whatever else. Tsukishima drums his fin

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" From how he's phrasing it, it sounds like Oikawa is suffering just as much as you. Even if he isn't the one dying over an algebra equation. Seeing you constantly sighing, groaning, or biting your fingernails must've finally got to him. "No," you murmur. "I can do this." Oikawa doesn't seem all too convinced, but shrugs, and leaves you to your whims. You squint menacingly at the problem in front of you. Why did they have to add letters to math? It was all fun in games during the earliest years of your education, when you only had to add and subtract. With no letters. What went wrong? The dull ache i

"I think you should take a break." There's an identifiable amount of concern in Oikawa's voice. A pout forms on his lips when you ignore him, not even taking a moment to stop moving your stylus. He wasn't entirely sure how this situation began in the first place. All he recalls is that he invited himself into your room. That was his first mistake. When the unsuspecting male innocently waltzed into your room, he witnessed your sulking form. There were tissues strewn about, your entire room was dark (with the exception of your computer screen), and you were a complete, sniffling mess. If it weren't for the fact he cares for your wellbeing, h

"Good morning, [Name]-chan~!" Oh, no. Oikawa gave the girl a wave, but the girl merely looked away, trying her best to ignore him at all costs. Knowing that she was avoiding his presence, Oikawa entered the classroom and grabbed a chair and scooted next to her. Really close to her. Too close for her own comfort. But did Oikawa care? No, of course not. He never cares about anything but himself. Which is why [Name] hated him. "Do you know what day it is~?" he asked, paying no attention at how the girl was extremely uncomfortable by the space between them. Oikawa, however, saw the tint of blush appearing on her cheeks, and that only made him

Moving towards the open kitchen, he padded across the living room, where she was sitting with her friends, his steps seductively slow. Three pairs of eyes followed his course; two glistening with admiration and one blazing with fury. She clicked her tongue, struggling to keep herself from hurling all his fashion magazines at him. Ignore him. Ignore him. He’s gonna go away. He reached the fridge and, grabbing a bottle of water from the door, he brought it to his mouth, little droplets escaping his lips and rushing down his chin, littering his extremely bare chest. He returned the bottle into the fridge and traced his steps back to the

soulmate au;; you feel whatever pain your soulmate feels. “how are you supposed to know who they are when you first meet them?” yachi thinks about soulmates a lot. this is one of her constant musings; you’ve both talked it through and to be honest, you don’t know how that would work. it isn’t the most practical way to find your soulmate because there’s no real indication like those stories you read about the timers and colors. if only it were that easy. “what if you just slapped someone and felt a sting on your face? then you would know it’s them!” yet another brilliant idea from this

Oikawa Tōru Misunderstanding ______ I walked down the steps of my house, using my umbrella to cover my black skinny jeans and an oversized jacket I got from my older sibling. I opened the door, immediately hit with the smell of heavy rain water hitting the concrete. I breath in deeply, then breath out slowly. I'm actually doing this... I moved my bag I had with me to my car, quickly stuffing myself and my belongings in it. I start the car, it making a loud sound as I look behind me, backing out of the slippery driveway. And now, I'm off, the rain pattering hard against my windshield and the car in general. No one was out, as it was 3 a

 You were pissed. Scratch that. What a dangerous understatement. You were absoFUCKINGlutely pissed. Amazingly, it wasn't because he was a whopping forty-five minutes late. Nor was it because he had kept you waiting under the sweltering heat of the sun on a summer afternoon, smack in the middle of a busy shopping district. Not even because several girls were openly fawning—rather loudly, much to your annoyance—over the young man you were too stubborn to admit to having a crush on considered a reliable acquaintance. While the brunette that easily towered nearly a ruler's width over your small frame gave you so many reasons to t

A/N: Listen as you read! ------------- Damn it. He couldn’t get their faces out of his head. They were there, reminding him the cruel reality. He wanted to forget for a moment, was that too much to ask? It seemed so. The brunette held his head with his hands and sighed. He couldn’t show weakness now, not in front of his teammates. He looked up with the best smile he could show and patted everyone’s back. “We―” “We did good.” His childhood friend cut him off, attracting all the attention. “Hey! I was about to say that!” The captain protested, and that simple exchange of words was e