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𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ marga or mags .ᐟ 21+ she/her. @voyousfleur. istj. hq!!, bllk, wbk, bnha brainrot. kiyoomi & kei's gf ( real ! )

𐙚. headcanons ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐙚.‎ social media au's ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𐙚. one shots ‎‎ ‎ ‎

𐙚. fic series‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𐙚. works in progress

© skiyoosmi, 2020. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

if fate permits

⤷  chapter thirty three: the beginning of the end, ii.

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marga's notes. hehe (: 

The snow has begun to descend all over Japan and almost all the things your eyes stop on are colored in white, from the roads, the barks of the trees, to the roofs of your homes. The view was accompanied by the feeling of coldness that hugs you every time you leave the comforts of your warm house and step out of the door. It was pleasant, regardless of the sore joints you get every winter. The sound of snow crunching for every footstep makes up for it, which you enjoy even better when your companion joins you in trying to skip over the uneven ground.

“Come on, Hajime, you slowpoke! We’re going to be late,” you giggle as you pick up a bit of snow and chuck it towards his direction. The past week hasn't been that eventful for the two of you, but there was still progress anyway. You two went out and traveled to various areas in hopes of obtaining more inspiration for your writing, which almost felt like a couple’s date, at least that’s what it was for him. The blurry images and incomplete voices are etched in your mind though and you find yourself lost in your train of thoughts from time to time, at least until Iwaizumi snaps you out of it and brings you back to the present.

“If you trip, I swear I’ll only laugh at you,” he jokingly warns, laughing handsomely when you stick your tongue out to him as a response.When you arrive in the middle of the campus field, you slow down and stop, catching the attention of the boy with you.

“You okay?” 

You hum and take in the view as much as your vision lets you. Your eyes twinkle with childlike wonder and you exhale, releasing a fog-like breath which makes you giggle once more, “I like winter.”

“Yeah?” 

You nod and feel your heart beat with excitement, “yeah, it’s really fun. I hope it’s always like this.”

He grabs your glove-covered hand with his and smile, “me too. I hope so too.”

Contrary to your words, an oddly familiar warmth that nestles its way to your heart when your eyes settle on a familiar figure idly standing from afar and you start to think that maybe… just maybe, you might actually like the warm summer better than a cold winter. As if there’s a force pulling you, your feet start to walk towards their direction, the previous stable beating of your heart becomes erratic the more you come near.

“Hey, the party’s in that direction, where are we–” Hajime starts to ask, before he stops when he feels your hand letting go of him and sees who you’re approaching. His heart drops because there goes his peace once again, replaced by the agonizing torture of watching you naturally gravitate towards your fated one. He doesn’t think you realize this and somehow, that knowledge makes it more excruciating. 

He stays behind you when you stand giddily in front of the blonde boy who has not yet took notice of your presence, too busy enjoying how he was playing and kicking the snow with his feet, eyes also filled with childlike wonder. And Hajime wants to lurch because Atsumu’s scarily just like you. You two were just made for each other and it gases up Hajime’s insides with bitterness. 

Because, why do I have to go against the universe for this, he asks no one in particular.

He watches when Atsumu mindlessly kicks and the snow hits your direction, making you squeal-giggle due to the cold sensation. Hajime thinks your happiness was mostly due to the delight of seeing the blonde. And he wants to just disappear because, how can Atsumu make you laugh like that without even trying? And fate was just so, so cruel and unfair he can barely be graced with your smile. 

if fate permits

⤷ chapter thirty two: that's my girl

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marga's notes. haji, my guy, i have no words for you but i am so sorry

There’s an endless abyss of questions that sit just by the ends of your tongue and threaten to spill from your mouth as the blonde haired lad continues to lace your fingers together, as if all of these were normal, as if not even a single thing about it was supposed to be unnatural. Your heart unusually thumps louder and faster when he gently smiles and everything zones out. Albeit the crowd that starts to form as you stand in the middle of the streets, there’s serenity that’s settling within you as he holds you near him. 

You want to ask why he’s compliant with your actions, why feeling his warmth on the tips of your fingers seems innate for you, why your heart screams to have his. You hold back though, scared that it may ruin this. 

“Uhm…” you trail off, unsure on what to talk about after your mini-breakdown and your current circumstances. There’s a light blush dusting your cheeks, feeling giddy like you were both teenagers. How shameful, you chastise yourself. 

“Let’s wait for Samu to get back,” he only says, lightly squeezing his hold of you, probably as an attempt to assure you that everything’s good. Yeah, everything’s fine– you’ve never felt better before.

You both stand there in comfortable silence, watching the passersby and feeling the wind lightly swoosh the strands of your hair. He quietly hums a tune, heart dancing (it also skips because he’s holding your hand and he’s also never felt better before). 

“That’s from Cinderella, right? The live action,” you speak up, recognizing the song. Lavender’s Blue. 

He turns his head to look at you, eyes brightening while he nods and replies, “yeah, it’s become my favorite.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ due to the unexpected words. He chuckles at your expression, “guess you never took me to be the type who enjoys sappy songs like that, huh?”

You shrug, “you can’t blame me, it’s literally a nursery song, Tsum.” 

Tsum. His heart skips again at the familiar moniker. 

“It reminds me of someone,” he explains, looking at you rather wistfully. Your chest starts to contract, the vein of temptation moves closer to the opening of your lips, pulling your heart, your nerves. You have to do it, you have to ask.

“About your thread, who was your soulm–”

it kills me a little, that's okay 'cause i'd die for you—

⤷ contents. gender neutral reader, petnames (he calls you baby and dude), angst (and a sprinkle of fluff i think)

there's stillness in the night as gojo lays idly on his bed, relishing the very short break he has before the strenuous work at jujutsu tech begins once again. his room is engulfed with darkness, barely lit by the dim brightness that comes from the screen of his phone.

"hello, satoru's phone! yn here, hehe."

a minimal smile appears on his face as he plays a familiar video, greeted by your bright expression as you try to position the phone in a better angle. his thumb hovers over the screen as he pauses when your face comes near, mimicking gesture as if he's stroking the apples of your cheeks. there are veins of melancholy that burrows its way deep into the crevices of his core before he resumes the recording. 

and if i drop them all at the same time...? lol kidding

i care for ur hearts (despite my angsty works) dw

if fate permits

⤷ chapter thirty one: treachery

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marga's notes. sorry this took years to post i was dead (inside) jk lol pls blame my uni for burning me out

Perhaps, I was too ambitious to think this would be a plain sailing journey. How ironic, it's the exact opposite of what is happening. Doubt and confusion presents itself as soon as I decide to fight our fate. My mind only has perplexity and skepticism. How could it not? I mean, what do you even do when somebody claims to be your fated one but your soul rejects the notion?

me, sometime tonight: *casually drops by and posts chapter 31 of if fate permits as if i haven't updated it for 2 years*

hi

so... i'm alive

*nervously chuckles and guiltily looks away*

and then, we fell apart

⤷ series masterlist | CHAPTER SEVEN | prev | next

⤷ sypnosis. you like him, they said he likes you. isn't it supposed to be as easy as that? apparently, it's not when oikawa tooru decides to ask you to fake-date him to make the new girl jealous. it would've been fine... if only you weren't in love with him.

marga's notes. okay, let's have a bit of fluff and false hopes so that the angst will hurt a bit more ^_^

ask box

[ 6:59 PM, MARCH ]

"omi, what are you doing?"

the somewhat miserable sight of your boyfriend's body tangled with the christmas lights as he laid on the floor welcomes you from work. he gives you a rather pathetic attempt of a smile as he struggles to disentangle himself, making you lift an eyebrow due to amusement and disbelief at the same time.

"as far as i can remember, the lights were supposed to go around the tree, not your body," you comment as you begin helping him, "besides, holidays are already done. why are you even bothering to put decorations now?"

you snigger when he tries to subtly squirm. but you knew this lad like your palm in addition to the back of your hand— you knew that right where your fingers were hovering over, just above his ribs, is where he gets ticklish the most. you wiggle your fingers, chuckling devilishly when he lets out a yelp.

"stop it," he grumbles, trying to slap your hand away but ultimately failing as he was still tied, "why don't you just help your poor lover instead of being a menace for once?"

"i think i like you better this way, you're much easier to control," you joke as you stop tweaking the formed knots of the lights.

he heaves an exasperated sigh, letting you do your own thing, "what did i even expect from you."

after a few minutes, he finally gets a taste of freedom... only to use the same christmas lights to tie you up instead. with a smug look on his face, he asks, "now who's easier to control?"

you let out a fake gasp before wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, "oh my my, babe. i didn't know you were so kinky."

his face drops, "you're insufferable."

he lets go of the christmas lights and huffs, "i wanted to give the house that christmas feels you speak of every year but look where it got me."

you stare at him with a confused expression and state the most obvious fact, "it's march."

"i know. but i wasn't here last christmas due to training and tournament, so i wanted to make it up to you when i came home," he says oh so casually as he clears the mess he made in the living room. it was as if it was the most natural thing for him to do.

his words sink in and you found yourself cooing and squealing as you throw yourself at him, "aww, omi. you're so sweet!"

he yelps and tries to push you off, "stop it. you—!"

figuring you're not gonna stop with the kisses and hugs you're currently peppering and showering him with, he sighs and tells you again, "you're insufferable."

you hum and giggle, "mhm yeah, sure, i am. you love me though."

"unfortunately."

"hey! what do you mean unfortunately?!"

marga's notes. i just had the dire need to write and post this

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