#kageyama fic

[rosierin]

reblogging this because i re-wrote it :p

scoring a date (is harder than scoring a point) l kageyama tobio

Lately, Kageyama has been paying more attention to you than to his usual volleyball tactics with Hinata— much to the latter’s frustration. But if there’s one thing stronger than Kageyama’s insecurities, it’s Hinata’s persistence. With a little (okay, a lot of) pushing, Kageyama finally gathers the courage to confess.

warnings: kageyama being awkward, a boner joke cause im 10

a/n: found this dusty ass fic as the very bottom of my drafts and now she’s finally seeing the light

Kageyama? Oi! Kageyama!“

Hinata shakes the setter’s shoulder as he gazes at you from the other side of the classroom.

You’re sitting at one of the tables at the front of the class, smiling as your friends excitedly relay their weekend to you. He’s been staring for a while now— unbeknownst to him, but not to Hinata.

They were supposed to be planning a new strategy for the team’s upcoming game, but somewhere around the third sentence, Kageyama had completely tuned out. His pen sat uselessly between his fingers, no notes written, his attention completely stolen by your laughter. His lips parted slightly as he observed, a thought creeping in before he could stop it.

Could I ever make her laugh like that?

"Ka-ge-ya-ma-kun!”

Probably not. Nobody had ever labeled Kageyama as “the funny type.”

“KAGEYAMA-KUN!”

A shrill voice abruptly tears him from his daydream, and he whips his head toward his nosy middle blocker, who’s frowning at him in return.

The ruckus causes the classroom to turn in their direction— including you. Kageyama barely has time to register the way your head tilts in quiet curiosity before panic shoots through his system.

He gasps. Oh crap.

Fighting every instinct to crawl under the desk, he jerks his elbow onto the table, blocking you from his line of sight as he ducks his head lower, pretending to read his completely blank notebook. Maybe she didn’t see. Maybe I’m fine. Maybe I can just—

“What?” he hisses.

“You’re staring at her again,” Hinata says plainly, balancing a pencil on his upper lip like some kind of circus act. Kageyama fights the urge to knock it off his face. “Why don’t you just ask her out already?”

“Ask who what? To where?” Kageyama blurts dumbly, eyes darting away, anywhere but in your direction.

Of course, he knows exactly what Hinata means.

This wasn’t just about inviting you to a festival or a party as friends. It wasn’t about asking you to hang out casually.

No, what Hinata was talking about was asking you out. Making you his girlfriend.

He blanches.

Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not happening.

You were too different from him— you might as well be opposites. You were happy, outgoing, effortlessly social. Meanwhile, he was… him. Even the thought of talking to you made him wince.

He can already picture the disaster: your scrunched-up features, the awkward, uncomfortable laugh as he completely butchers his confession— stuttering out those five terrifying words:

“P-Please go out with me!”

He shudders.

Yeah, no. He’d rather trip on a jump serve and face-plant onto the gym floor.

“I know you know what I mean,” Hinata frowns, putting down his pencil. Kageyama grumbles something under his breath, but Hinata just grins and prods his arm playfully. “Geez, Kageyama-kun. I didn’t know you were such a scaredy cat!”

“Hah?”

“Please don’t kill me!” Hinata squeaks, scooting back to avoid Kageyama’s wrath.

“I’m surprised you’re even interested in a girl anyway. I thought you only cared about volleyball,” Hinata mutters, likely bracing for another scolding.

Kageyama scowls. It’s true, volleyball had always been his everything. He had dedicated his entire soul to it. But somehow, without him even realizing it, you had carved out a space right next to it.

The signs had been there for a while— the way his heart would stutter at your laughter, the way his breath caught whenever you caught him staring.

It was the same rush he felt when he landed a perfect set. The same breathlessness that came when an opponent slipped past his block.

But despite knowing all of this, Hinata was right about one thing: he would never be brave enough to confess.

He knew the sting of rejection. He wasn’t about to relive that nightmare.

For now, he’d just have to be content with your presence. Admiring from afar. Basking in his own delusions. It wasn’t ideal, but… it was enough.

“I can like volleyball and (l/n),” Kageyama mutters defensively. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find that it is!” Hinata declares, poking a finger into Kageyama’s chest. “We’re friends now! Your problems are mine!”

Kageyama blinks at him. His frown falters slightly, replaced with a look of sheer confusion.

“Are you sick?”

“No, you jerk! But if your obsession with (y/n) keeps up, you might get distracted and mess up your sets!”

At this, Kageyama gasps, offended. His jaw locks stubbornly.

“Never.” Then his brain stutters. He realizes something even worse, his expression turning frantic. “Wait. Since when does she let you call her by her first name?”

Hinata shrugs, “Since she and Yachi-san tutored me for our last English test.”

“I thought Tsukishima was teaching you!”

“With Yachi-san and (y/n)-chan, dummy!”

Silence.

Kageyama’s face darkens. His hands curl into fists.

So not only had he just found out that his not-so-best-friend-slash-rival had spent time with you, but that Tsukishima had too?!

The four-eyed beanpole?!

“Hahaha, don’t mind us.” He can hear Tsukishima’s smug voice in his head, mocking him. That two-faced, lanky—

“Earth to Kageyama!”

“Huh?”

He blinks. Hinata is staring at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You have to stop zoning out,” Hinata sighs, shaking his head before suddenly perking up. His bright, hazel eyes widen, and Kageyama barely has time to react before Hinata practically shoves himself forward.

“I know! You’re gonna ask (y/n)-chan out today! Then, you’ll stop zoning out, and you’ll stop acting like such a weirdo!”

“Wait— what?! But— Since when do you—”

“No buts!” Hinata cuts in, dramatically holding up a finger to silence him. “You’ll ask her out after class. No exceptions. And trust me— she’ll say yes.”

Kageyama stiffens. “What do you mean?” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “You don’t know that, moron.”

Hinata just grins. “‘Course I do.” Then, removing his finger from Kageyama’s lips, he crosses his arms.

And though his next words are muttered through a stubborn pout, Kageyama hears them clear as day:

“You���re a super cool setter. There’s no way she wouldn’t like that.”

Keep reading

[kitasuno]

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

[cr4yolaas]

BOYFRIEND TEXTS — KAGEYAMA TOBIO

𐙚 a series of texts between u and ur lovely boyfriend <3

𐙚 post-timeskip. gender neutral reader. fully sfw. maybe ooc kags? we’ll never know 🤷

[stellar-haikyuu]

word of the day ☆ kageyama tobio x reader

synopsis: due to a conflict in schedule, yachi asks first-year reader to cover for her english tutoring session with a certain volleyball prodigy. details: fluff, mutual friends to lovers, first meeting, ~2.2k words, gn! reader. requested by @wordsofelie as part of my karasuno writing event warnings: none!

From your seat by the window, you catch snippets of Yachi’s anxious voice from the hallway.

“You’re only available this afternoon? Oh dear. Um, okay, I think I can go, but I need to double-check first!”

Leaning forward on your desk, you spot Yachi speaking with a student you don’t recognize. Judging by the neatly labeled folders the student hands her, they’re probably from the first-year project design committee. 

You feel a small wave of pride. You convinced Yachi to sign up after seeing her beautiful volleyball posters.

Moments later, Yachi skitters into the classroom, her steps quick and slightly frantic as she collapses into the seat in front of you. She turns around, clasping her hands together nervously.

“Um…can I ask you for a favor?”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her unusual boldness. “A favor? What happened? I could hear you worrying from all the way here.”

Yachi winces, the tips of her ears turning pink. “Uh, you see…the design committee wants to hold a meeting this afternoon after school. I’ll be excused from club activities, but that’s not the issue.” She sighs, brushing her bangs aside.

“What is it, then?”

“I promised to tutor Kageyama-kun in English,” she explains, voice softening with guilt. “He’s got a test this Friday, and I agreed to help him study for an hour today before practice starts.”

Kageyama? Oh, right. 

You vaguely remember him—one of the two volleyball players who occasionally show up in your classroom to study with Yachi during lunch breaks.

“I see,” you say slowly. “So, you want me to cover for you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble?” Yachi’s hands clasp together as she leans forward slightly. “And…if you have questions about volleyball, this might be a good chance to ask?”

Her hopeful tone makes you pause. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt.

“But if not, I don’t want to bother you!” She shakes her head vigorously. “I can just double my other session with him later this week-”

“Alright. I’ll do it,” you say with a small shrug.

“I- wait, really?!” Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Yup. What time and place?”

Bracing yourself, you knock gently on what you hope is the correct clubroom door. 

“Uh, hello? Is this the volleyball club?”

A voice from the other side calls out, “Yeah, come in!”

Taking a deep breath, you slide the door open, stepping into a room filled with what can only be described as chaos. A group of boys—clearly the team—turns to stare at you in unison, their expressions ranging from curious to outright surprised.

“Um, hello!” You clear your throat, suddenly aware of the weight of their attention. “Is Kageyama-san here?”

Technically, you’ve seen him before, but you’d rather not embarrass yourself by scanning every face in the room.

“That’s me,” a deep voice responds.

You follow the sound to a dark-haired boy seated a few feet away. When you meet his gaze, you’re taken aback by the sheer intensity of his stare.

His eyes look like blueberries…why haven’t I noticed that before?

You chuckle softly at the absurd thought before regaining your composure. 

“Hi! Yachi couldn’t make it today because of a meeting, so she asked me to fill in for her.”

“Oh. Okay,” he says simply, blinking in confusion.

“Wait a second!” A boy with bright orange hair practically bounces up from his seat. “You’re Yachi-san’s classmate, right? You sit behind her during lunch sometimes!”

“That’s me,” you reply with a small smile. 

You introduce yourself to the team formally before settling on the ground beside Kageyama.

“So, your vocabulary test is this Friday, right?”

“Yes,” he replies curtly, handing you a stack of papers and worksheets.

As you skim through the materials, the reason for his struggles becomes glaringly obvious. You suppress a small sigh.

“Hmmm. Okay, let’s start by marking the words you’re completely unfamiliar with. Could you underline them with a pencil?”

Kageyama nods and sets to work, though it doesn’t take long for him to underline more than half the list.

The orange-haired boy—Hinata, you later learn—leans over to peek at the paper. He immediately snorts. “Man, you really suck at this, Kageyama.”

Kageyama whirls to face him, glaring. “As if you’re doing any better!”

“Hinata, could you shut up and work on your proverbs? I don’t have all day.”

“Tsukishima!”

Well, isn’t this interesting…

“This is so hard.” Kageyama huffs in frustration. “I won’t even need this stuff in the future.”

“Yeah, but you need it to go to the next training camp,” Hinata chimes in.

“Also, don’t be rude, King,” Tsukishima adds. “They weren't even supposed to tutor you at all.”

At that, Kageyama immediately straightens and bows his head toward you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine, I get it.” You wave your hand dismissively. “I’m not too fond of science because I don’t see how chemistry will help me be a better sports journalist.”

Kageyama stops writing before shooting his head up. “Sports journalist?”

The rest of the members scattered around the room pause too, almost like you’ve dropped the most shocking revelation of the century.

“You like sports?” Kageyama questions.

“Yep! I don’t have a particular favorite at the moment.” You tap your chin thoughtfully. “I’m still trying to explore everything, but-”

“What about volleyball?” Kageyama’s full attention is on you now. He’s leaning forward and the pencil that was once in his hand is now rolling on the floor.

You hear an amused huff from somewhere in the room.

“Uh, volleyball?” You fumble for a response, caught off guard by the sudden shift in focus. “Well, it’s the sport I enjoyed playing the most in physical education.”

“What did you like about it?” He presses, moving a little closer.

“Uh-” 

Yachi wasn’t kidding when she said volleyball was his life. 

“Relax, Kageyama. They're not going anywhere, give them some space,” a gray-haired senior advises him.

“Oh, sorry,” Kageyama mumbles, leaning back a bit.

“It’s fine.” You smile, finding his passion quite endearing. 

“I guess I like that I don’t have to handle the ball for a long time. Plus, your entire team just stays on one side of the court. When it comes to basketball or soccer, I look like a fool because I can’t dribble the ball well. It always gets away from me, and the other teams snatch it before I know what’s going on.”

You pause mid-ramble, momentarily embarrassed, but Kageyama doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks even more engaged.

“Also, I find volleyball unpredictable and thrilling. The rallies always keep me on the edge of my seat. I’m sure you understand what I mean?”

“Yes. I do.” Something in his eyes shifts. “Thrilling…”

“Yeah-”

“Thrilling. Causing a feeling of great excitement or happiness,” Kageyama recites from memory.

The atmosphere in the room lightens instantly. Everyone attempts to hold back a laugh, including you. A few of his team members fail to do so, but he pays them no mind.

“That’s right, Kageyama-san. Volleyball is thrilling,” you nod at him with a shaky smile.

“Yes!” He cheers to himself silently, pumping his fists in genuine excitement.

Cute.

An idea suddenly pops into your head.

“Speaking of volleyball, do you have plans to play professionally?”

“Of course!” He answers with absolute confidence. “I don’t plan on doing anything else.”

“Ah, I see. And you plan on playing on international teams one day?”

“Definitely,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Great. You know what I think, Kageyama-san?”

“What?” He looks at you expectantly.

“Maybe learning some basic English could help you play better with foreign teammates.”

Kageyama tilts his head. “English can…help?”

“You don’t need to be a fluent speaker, but teamwork improves when you can understand each other more, right?”

“That’s…” He stops to think about it carefully. You wait, hoping that it motivates him to study a bit more.

“But, wouldn’t there be translators and everything?” Hinata pipes up.

“That’s true, but they won’t always be there,” you respond in a steady tone. “I believe it’s always better to be prepared. It helps to have a common language at times.”

“A common language…” Hinata repeats.

“Well, for instance, I plan on being a sports journalist here,” you continue, “but there’s a chance I’ll need to interview foreign players. It could help to know a bit of what they’re saying so that it doesn’t get very awkward. But, that’s just my perspective.”

Kageyama looks up, and to your surprise, he speaks before anyone else can.

“You’re right.”

The room goes silent. For a moment, you’re sure you didn’t hear him correctly.

“You’re right,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “How good should I be?” 

“I—huh?” You blink again, confused by the sudden shift.

“How good should I be?” he asks, clearly serious, his intense gaze fixed on you.

“Oh, I heard you the first time,” you clarify, still trying to make sense of the situation. “I just don’t understand what you mean.”

“What should my goal be? How many words should I start memorizing?”

“Your goal?” You blink at him. “Your goal now for high school is to pass your English classes.”

Kageyama pouts. “I know, but you said it was important for volleyball. I need to be good enough at it then.”

You scramble your brain for a possible answer. “So…we’re talking about many years from now?”

He nods, patiently waiting for your verdict. 

“Okay, fine,” you sigh. “If I get the chance to interview you in the future, we’ll do it in basic English. How does that sound?”

“I’ll do it,” he replies immediately, eyes lighting up. 

Did he even process what I said?

“Please continue to teach me.” Kageyama bows before you, causing everyone to startle.

“Look at that! The King’s actually asking?”

“Shut up!” Kageyama grumbles at his teammate before turning back to you.

You’re flustered by his unexpected gesture, but can’t help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Alright. Now come on, we’ve got thirty more minutes before you guys start practice.”

Yachi calls you later that evening in total disbelief. “Kageyama-kun just told me you guys went through his entire vocabulary list today.”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t believe it at first!” Yachi exclaims, her tone rising in excitement. “Sometimes we barely get through half the list after an hour.”

You think back to his progress before you found a way to motivate him. “Well, it seemed that way at first-”

“Then he says that learning English is important for his future after all! He even wants to dedicate extra time to study for it. He never would have done that before!”

“Ah-”

“And here’s the thing,” she continues, “he asked if you could tutor him again on other days! What exactly did you do?”

“Well, I-”

“Or is it something that I didn’t do? Did he say anything about me being a bad teacher or-”

“Yachi-san!” You cut her off before she spirals any further. “Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything about you. I think this is all because I may have challenged him to do a basic English interview with me in the future.”

Yachi blows a fuse. “You challenged- wait, what? In the future? What do you-”

“Wait, is that a bad thing?”

“No! I mean, it’s good, I suppose?” Yachi’s voice softens as she carefully chooses her words. “Um, it actually explains something he asked me for help with earlier.”

“What is it?”

“You told him to write down one word every day and use it in a meaningful sentence, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, you see, his sentence, um…”

“What’s wrong?”

“He asked me how to write, ‘Meeting Yachi-san’s friend was thrilling.’”

You freeze for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in.

“Wait- what?”

“He said meeting you was thrilling.”

“Oh...”

The silence on the line stretches, your mind racing. Something electric runs through your veins, and you can almost feel your heart thumping faster.

“What about you?” Yachi asks, her voice hesitant but curious.

“Me?”

“Was meeting Kageyama-kun thrilling too?” 

You think back to that afternoon and it’s easy to respond with certainty.

“Yes.”

A week later, Kageyama walks into your classroom during lunch. He shows you a test paper with what he says is the highest score he’s ever gotten on an English test. 

You can hear Hinata grumbling to Yachi about how unfair it is that Kageyama got extra help, but all you can focus on is Kageyama’s smile. It’s the most genuine, beautiful one you’ve ever seen.

I want to see it more.

I want to be around him more.

I want to achieve our goals together.

“Dream.”

Kageyama’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

He points to the bottom of his test paper, where he was asked to write a sentence in English using any of the provided vocabulary words. You attempt to read his messy handwriting, but he reads it out for you anyway.

“Her dream is to be a sports journalist.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. 

He wrote about me?

Hinata squawks, reaching for the test paper and reviewing it with Yachi.

“Oh my gosh, he actually got all the grammar right,” she gasps in awe. “Good job, Kageyama-kun!”

He thanks her briefly before fixing his gaze on you once more.

“Dream. That was the word of the day.”

masterlist

[hiraethwa]

✰ — i want all your midnights 

kageyama x reader; fluff drabble;

"please don’t ever became a stranger"

tobio snakes his arms around your waist while you are attempting to gently fold the souffle pancake batter, resting his chin on your shoulder. a perfectly domestic action that sent your heart fluttering in its ribcage. 

tobio, not kageyama, because somewhere along the lines, they had blurred, and you found yourself falling for the man behind the name. his impossibly soft hair threaded through your fingers as he lays with his head on your chest after fucking you senseless, his own hands playing with your other hand. 

his soulful eyes the color of a navy berry under the night skies when you could call him yours, a cerulean blue in the soft morning rays as you wake up to an arm slung low over your hips. you would notice the light marks left on him, evidence of the previous night, such contrast to his softness as he rubs his eyes awake. 

“y/n?” tobio waves you back to the present, snapping you out of your haze.

“hmm?” you turn around to face him, his hands automatically adjusting themselves to rest on the sides of your hips. 

“hinata and the others are in town tonight. they are going to meet us at the ramen bar a few shops down from your favorite katsu place.” you aren’t quite sure you understand what tobio is asking of you. after all, you’re seeing each other casually, no labels attached to whatever the two of you are. 

“meet us…?” you trail off, a question left in its wake. 

“yeah, they have been bugging me to meet you for weeks, so i thought, why not?”

“why do they want to meet me?” you furrow their eyebrows, confused as to why they even know of your existence. 

“because you’re my girlfriend?”

“i’m your what—?” you almost drop the mixing bowl in your hands from shock. 

“you’re my girlfriend.” he cocks his head at you questioningly. “why do you look so surprised? you’re the one who said yes.”

“i don’t—” your cheeks heat as you remember the dream that wasn’t a dream—so tobio had asked you to be his girlfriend before you fell asleep that night, but you were so exhausted that you thought you hallucinated the whole thing. “oh.”

“idiot,” kageyama mutters, giving you a flick on your forehead before taking over the task of pouring the batter into the greased pan. the action so normal and domestic that tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. 

“my boyfriend is so mean to me,” you hug him from the back, face squished against the expanse of his back. your heart soars with disbelief and delight. finally, you get to call him yours.

"whose laugh i can recognize anywhere"

[m4iya]

hq characters reactions to having them as your wallpaper

multiple characters

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get a little embarrassed about it, insisting that you don't need to have it there. He'd begin pointing out issues in the photo in an attempt to get you to change it, giving up when he realises that you weren't going to budge. He eventually sets his wallpaper to a photo of you.

"Well.. If your wallpaper is me, mine might as well be yours. That way, we match."

tadashi yamaguchi, akaashi keiji, kenma kozume, sakusa kiyoomi, azumane asahi

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to act nonchalant about it. He'd take notice a couple of times, not commenting on it until you specifically point it out. Once you do, he'd act as though it's just a normal picture but on the inside, he's secretly smiling. Might even make your name his password in exchange.

“Huh? It's no big deal, it's just a photo of me - right?"

tsukishima kei, tobio kageyama, akira kunimi, kenji futakuchi, kenjiro shirabu, ushijima wakatoshi, takanobu aone

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get overconfident about it. He’d noticed it a while ago, but after you showed him he’d act ‘confused’, maybe even asking ‘wasn’t it always me?’ He’d joke around about it, even offering to send you different photos of himself to switch between from time to time.

“Well, you can use my photo if you insist..!”

kuroo tetsuro, oikawa toru, suguru dasho, akihiro konoha, hoshiumi korai

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get all giddy about it. When he’d noticed it, he looked back at you, sparkly eyed and beaming. He’d look at your phone, making sure it was still there. When, you’d told him you switched your wallpaper, he was shocked; only to realise it was still him, only a different photo.

“Is that.. IS THAT ME?!”

hinata shoyo, nishinoya yuu, inuoka so, lev haiba, kanji koganegawa, bokuto kotaro

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type who plays it cool, but is still all smiles. You’d show it to him, and he’d react happily. He’d probably set his wallpaper to a photo of you, or insist you take one together to match. The type to also have matching key rings or bracelets with you.

“Hold on, let’s take one together instead.”

sugawara koushi, yaku morisuke, tsutomi goshiki, suna rintaro, nobuyuki kai, takahiro hanamaki, daichi sawamura

other works

[katsu2ji]

wholeheartedly — t. kageyama

a/n: something sweet worthy of a sweet boy. tobio kageyama oh how i love you

the best part of tobio's day has always been getting to come home to you.

had you told tobio kageyama back in high school that he'd have someone to come home to, he would have genuinely thought you were mistaken. the idea of someone to return to at the end of everyday—someone waiting for him, ready to love him and be loved by him in return—was not something that he saw happening in his future. it's not that he was against it, just that it was something he hadn't really prioritized.

going pro with volleyball? no question. but falling in love? absolutely not.

and yet, when the schweiden adlers finally finish their long, gruelling practice at the end of the night, it's you who's on his mind; every night, like clockwork.

he helps shag the balls, takes a shower, says goodbye to his teammates and coach and heads out the door. he takes the same train every time, sitting in the same spot, and texts you to let you know that he's on the way home as soon as he sits down. you're probably already asleep, he thinks, but he's texting you anyway, typing the words out and hitting send. he puts his headphones in and closes his eyes, and the only thing on his mind as he lets the soreness of the day wash over him is how he can't wait to fall asleep next to you.

when he gets home and the lights are out, he knows that he was right—you had fallen asleep. he's careful as he slips his shoes off, sighing as he lets his gym bag slide from his shoulders and onto the couch. he doesn't even bother unpacking his stuff and getting it ready for the next day; all he wants is you.

he stumbles into the shared bedroom, barely being able to see with most of the lights off but refusing to turn anything on in fear of waking you up. he smiles when he sees your sleeping figure, curled up on your side of the bed and hugging his pillow. his heart gives a small squeeze then, a feeling he's still getting used to—all these years, and he still can't believe that it's possible to love someone this much, to have so much love in his heart that he didn't even know could exist in such a large capacity. and yet, here you were as living proof. love incarnate, he thinks.

it's not long before he finally is able to lay in bed with you like he's been wanting, holding you close as he lets out a sigh. he can't help but spare a glance at you, watching your face as you slept. god, you were so cute when you were sleeping, peaceful and content and beautiful. and it's in that moment that he's certain he could spend the rest of his life loving you like this—softly, gently, wholeheartedly. he feels his heart swell with an unmistakeable feeling of tenderness as he places a kiss to your temple, before drifting off peacefully.

he'd never knew a life like this was possible before meeting you, that a love so simple could be so sweet. but now that he'd had a taste of it, he can't imagine a life like any other. tobio kageyama was certain that he would do anything, give up everything, as long as it meant he would be able to come home to you.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[katescorner]

valentine's day with kageyama is sweet but hectic. he goes all out because it's a special day and he finally has a special person. i'm talking flowers, chocolates, gifts, dinner at a fancy restaurant, and of course dessert all timed down to the t. he's been planning for over a month, scouring websites for ideas, and visiting store after store to find the right things for you. and honestly the adlers boys are a little tired of hearing about it, but they've also never seen him so passionate about anything that wasn't volleyball until you. so they chime in with comments here and there to help him out. and it's obvious he's nervous. you caught on pretty early, so you try to reassure him he doesn't have to do anything over the top. you love him, and he loves you. it's just another day in the span of a year, but he just shakes his head because, "why wouldn't i do all this and more for you?"

series masterlist link

[wordsofelie]

🌸And I will wait for you (a thousand springs, a lifetime)

Kageyama Tobio x f!reader

Summary: “Senpai,” Kageyama calls you. “Keep an eye on me, watch me. I’ll win everything. I’ll make it to the Olympics. I’ll get gold.” You smile with your eyes closed, wrinkles forming above your cheeks. “I will.”

or, when you’re convinced that kageyama tobio is the definition of right person, wrong time.

Content Warnings: Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, High School & Time skip Setting, Manga Spoilers

Chapters: to come

Words count: to come

Taglist: open

[starxschaser]

pls send me requests for the hq boys !!! i really wanna write for them but remember sfw only !!! love u guys ><

[yenonnoff]

t. kageyama — to you, my dear

pairing: kageyama x gn!reader

content/warnings: written fic, timeskip with adlers kageyama, heavy angst, mentions of death and unnamed illness, grieving, y/n likes folding origami (vv cool), voice is described as light and bubbly sry (◞‸◟), ooc, didnt know how to end it i hope u like it still :D

word count: 2.2k

synopsis: you snuck into his heart with one origami crane, and he fell hopelessly in love with you. however, fate was merciless and it had other plans for you.

a/n: kageyama is so fine wow he deserves everything ↳ ♪ masterlist ☆

externally: kageyama tobio was okay. to his teammates, his audience, and regular passersby, he was still the hardworking, perfectionist Adlers setter everyone knew and loved. 

internally: kageyama tobio was torn and ripped apart like useless paper. the setter, who prided himself on his victories and achievements, lost an imperative battle that cost him everything. he’d lost you to your illness, and you had taken his heart with you to your grave. 

kageyama would never blame you for what happened. not in a million years; not even when the world was falling apart, and that was his only ticket to salvation. you didn’t deserve it. deep down, he knew what he was getting himself into when you came to watch the Adlers match that day. 

you were close friends with ushijima. so close that you were invited to his game with the opportunity of meeting his teammates after their match. it was like an ant show: his teammates swarmed you as if you were the biggest cracker they’d ever seen. 

that was the moment kageyama knew to stay away. it wasn’t something the setter usually got himself caught up in. besides, your honeyed smiles and merry acceptance of their weird behavior just further augmented his point. 

he knew that kind of demeanor. the one where they’re happy just because. they fret and fawn over trivial details, and notice things that aren’t worth noticing. more than anything, people like you enjoyed living in the moment.

kageyama was no stranger to that kind of attitude. he’d been surrounded by all sorts of people, most prominently the happy-go-lucky types. so, he automatically flagged you as red in his system. you were trouble—an impending headache in human form. 

but that same captivating and lively attitude was what lured him towards you. 

when you strolled over to where he stood (towel resting around his neck and drinking from the water bottle in his hand), kageyama tobio froze. 

“hi!” you smiled warmly, holding out your hand to shake his. 

the setter tilted his head, lowering the bottle to his side awkwardly. suddenly, the gymnasium felt unbearably cold—freezing. did they turn the aircon up? and out of nowhere, kageyama started feeling self-conscious about everything: himself, his hands, and the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. 

“uh, sorry. my hands are sweaty.” 

a loud “oh” left your lips, and your previously dumbfounded mien cracked into laughter. the setter tilted his head again, watching as you tried calming yourself down. “i’m sorry, you just looked so genuine. thank you for worrying about my hands, kageyama.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but you continued promptly. “i’m y/n l/n by the way, toshi’s friend. i wanted to know a bit about everyone before meeting them, but you know how he is. when i—” 

a talker, was all kageyama could think about while you chatted. you talked a lot and quickly at that, but maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. your voice was light and bubbly. it was bewitching, and kageyama tobio was charmed. the realization made him flush a bright red. 

“—don’t even think he knows anything about his teammates!” you paused to peer up at your supposed interlocutor. “kageyama?” 

“huh?” he replied in a dazed manner. 

oh, god. this was embarrassing. he really wanted to hide in a ditch somewhere. it wasn’t even his first name, but you’d somehow enthralled him into a hot and distracted mess. he’d been tricked—was what he wanted to desperately believe. 

“oh, sorry. i rambled too much,” you apologized with a smile. a guileless one. and immediately, kageyama knew he was doomed. 

he steeled himself in an attempt to regain composure, replying plainly, “it’s okay….so, uh, what do you do?” 

the question was a start. it was the trigger for everything, and somehow, it was also a mistake. for the first time in his life, something unrelated to volleyball made kageyama tobio’s heart flutter. 

it barely lasted a second, but it was there. that’s all that mattered. he’d felt it when you started talking again, this time about your profession. 

“i work as an assistant elementary school teacher. well, used to. i had to leave for medical issues.” 

elementary school teacher, kageyama repeated in his mind. now, everything made sense: your openness and chatty personality. your pleasant voice. the endearing smile you adorn that could charm millions. it was a profession that suited you, and the thought made the setter’s heart soften. 

then, he asked about the latter half of your sentence and you described it as “bad luck.” you were struck with a strange illness that currently had no cure. it was the exhausting kind. the one that would eventually drain all your energy until you could no longer function. “i only started regaining some strength recently. enough to visit toshi’s game! so, now i’m here.” 

your sweet smile was cruel. if you asked kageyama, he would’ve said it was more than just bad luck. but he didn’t say anything, especially not after his other teammates called for you so exuberantly. 

after all, it wasn’t something the setter usually got caught up in, anyway.

but you didn’t attend anymore games after that. the others had wanted you to visit again, but due to health reasons, you weren’t able to come. ushijima relayed your apologies to everyone instead. 

what had shocked the setter was his initial worry. he barely knew you, and yet, you consumed his mind whenever he was on the court. where were you? how were you doing? you would’ve been watching by now, cheering loudly for ushijima’s crazy spikes. these were just some thoughts kageyama had about you. 

even if the two of you were strangers, you had been a kind one. considerate enough to approach him standing on the sidelines. you didn’t deserve any of this, so, he cared more than he should’ve. 

however, what was even more shocking, was the immense relief he’d felt when you returned. glowing, bright, still smiling. 

he didn’t approach you first, waiting until the others were done surrounding you. deja-vu was what he’d felt. 

“hi!” your cheery voice made him freeze in place. deja-vu. this time, you looked more hesitant in a way, and kageyama noticed. he didn’t say anything, though. he only reached his hand out, inviting you into a handshake. 

“oh,” you said, failing to hide your blissful surprise. “your hand isn’t sweaty this time?” it was a joke, but the setter took it seriously with an adamant nod. he was prepared ever since he saw you sit down in the front row. at his ingenuousness, you laughed and wrapped both hands around his. the setter’s cheeks and ears glowed a warm vermillion. 

the physical contact didn’t last very long. perhaps only for a couple seconds until kageyama pulled away. it wasn’t that he didn’t like it. your hands were smooth and full of care—unblemished and soothing. your touch was much more: direct and purposeful. it seemed every time he saw you, kageyama’s heart had something new to jump at. 

but because of that, he didn’t want to touch you. compared to yours, the athlete’s hands were callused and coarse. they were rough and not devoid of bruises or marks; they were like sandpaper. if you touched them, would you get appalled? the setter was afraid his hands would taint your much softer ones. 

your voice brought him back to reality. “oh, here. i made you a little something to commemorate your victory.” 

kageyama stared at the paper crane held in front of him. it was dangling from your hand, tied to a blue string decorated with small, shiny beads. he examined it further when you dropped it onto his palms. the origami, made out of pretty blue patterned paper, matched its string. 

apparently, you had made all of his teammates one. origami folding was kind of your shtick, and you told the setter how you enjoyed making them with your students during pastime. it was also a good hand exercise, beneficial especially for your health and all.  

“the others got to choose whatever color and design they wanted, but i made this one special. it’s one of a kind!” you bounced over to his side, leaning in to adjust the crane still resting on his palms. there was a messy smiley face that you drew on one of its wings. 

messy might’ve been an understatement. the smile was crooked and squiggly and cute. kageyama tobio allowed himself a laugh, turning his head to the side to chuckle. it was truly unique—one of a kind. 

the next day, the setter bought a pack of origami paper and waited to see you again. he’ll have something to talk to you about. something other than volleyball, the weather, or your health. 

and you did come. sometimes back to back; sometimes randomly. you’d dip and show up to a match a couple weeks later. still, kageyama would look forward to seeing you again. it motivated him to play better so that he’d get to see your joyful face afterwards. 

he’d tell you about his origami process, mentioning his struggles and showing you the strange abomination he folded last night. the setter’s rough hands weren’t like yours. they performed serves and sets; they made contact with volleyballs and gymnasium floors on a daily basis. making precise folds with thin paper was an unfamiliar task to them. 

so, you helped out. everytime you came, you’d show him how to fold a new design after his match. you liked to increase the difficulty level to tease him (even suggesting he fold a 5x5 cm design once). but kageyama was a learner, and a fast one. with you by his side, he believed he could do anything. 

you cradled his heart with your tender hands. and under that care, kageyama tobio melted more than he—or anyone—thought he would. 

the first time he asked you out, it was for a leisurely stroll through town, where you stopped by more than a couple stationary stores. 

alone in an aisle with him, he asked you candid questions, displaying his confusion at the variety of textures and patterns. “is there a volleyball one?” he asked once, and you laughed lovingly. the moment was healing. the moment meant everything to kageyama. your genuine happiness was worth every cheeky question. 

at the end of the third date, kageyama hugged you close to him. your warmth swirled and mixed together. with his arms around you, you felt his desperation and, most importantly, his love. 

kageyama was a volleyball player, but he wasn’t unaware. he knew the time you had together was not infinite. if he let go of you now, would he see you ever again? he’d dug too big of a hole for himself, but he was unwilling to let go of his affection for you. he was stubborn and hopeless, but he was stubborn and hopeless with you. 

you knew how he felt about your illness. you knew his undeniable feelings for you. so, you pulled away and kissed him with passion you didn’t know you were saving. haunted with imminent death, you carelessly fell in love with a volleyball player. haunted with the thought of you slipping away forever, kageyama kissed you back deeper—with his whole heart. 

time was cruel. fate, however, was much worse. it despised you, seeking merciless ways to rob you of your merited happiness. it cursed you with an illness you never deserved. so, kageyama tobio—Adlers’ pro setter who learned how to fold silly origami—hated fate too. for both yours and his heart’s sake.

it allowed you two months of silence before sneaking up to your hospital room. then, you were gone forever. 

the next day, kageyama attended your funeral service. people greeted him and expressed their condolences, people like his teammates and ushijima. they all knew what you’d meant to him and vice versa. the setter bore his feelings behind a closed door and thanked them. he was the last to leave, standing in front of your smiling portrait until his legs were numb. 

it was worse when he got home—when the realization tore him apart. overflowing with grief and sorrow, kageyama cried at his front door. he’d barely made a couple steps into his house before devastation swallowed him whole. now, there was an empty place in his chest that he’ll never get back. 

he still played, though. play matches, win them, go home and start over. he’d play and practice, play and practice, then do it all over again until his coarse hands were red and full of blisters. 

but he never stopped thinking about you. before each match, he’d sit down and fold one of the designs you taught him. from flowers to objects to cranes and animals. he practiced them everyday until they started stacking up. he did this because he knew memories were unfair and traitorous. they naturally decay and become worn each time you recall them; they’re cruelly vulnerable to change. sooner or later, the details of your idyllic but simple moments together would chip away and dissolve. there would be nothing left. kageyama tobio only had this to cling onto.

the last thing you showed him how to fold was a blue penguin. he folded those the most because it was the last time he got to see you smile. “it’s simple but cute! look at it, it reminds me of you,” was what you’d said. god knows how many times kageyama replayed those words in his mind. 

even now, he still looks for you in the crowds; in the people he meets; and in pretty origami paper.

if u made it this far have a cookie <3 (@kqbukimono @mylahrins hehehfh hi!!! hello!!!!)

in all seriousness, i know the process of grieving is subjective, but i wanted to make sure i was able to portray it properly. if i or my writing came off as insensitive, please let me know. i want to fix my mistakes and learn from them.

[da-janela-lateral]

It seems that 'popular', 'athletic' and 'bright blue eyes' aren't their only similarities.

[omisubi]

Kageyama has staring contests with your cat.

It usually only lasts a few minutes before your cat is leaping or walking away, even when Kageyama’s eyes are still on him. He had expressed to you that he always had an inkling cats did not like him very much, to which you insisted that isn’t true, that your cat just isn’t used to him yet.

Your cat is, however, used to and fond of your boyfriend’s volleyball cat toy he had purchased in hopes of winning some brownie points.

“He’s kind of like you if you were a cat,” you teased one time as you guys watched him play with it, also referring to your cat’s similar blue eyes and dark fur.

That just made Kageyama observe your cat more. Needless to say, the staring contests continue — occurrences of which you ignored, until now.

Today, it’s taking longer than usual and you sense that neither of your boys refuse to break eye contact, stormy gazes staying strong. And as amused as you are, you selfishly want some attention yourself.

“Tobio, let it go—“

You barely finish your sentence before you are both taken by surprise as your cat leaps off the coffee table, right into Kageyama’s lap, and proceeds to curl into a comfortable resting position.

You almost coo at the image, especially when Kageyama looks up at you with guileless awe, hand petting your purring void, and quietly exclaims, “He likes me.”

You smile, humming in agreement as you watch your home grow livelier. “Told ya so.”

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — my blue spring

prev: until we’re old and wrinkly | masterlist

kageyama finds himself standing between a large mass of her friends. her roommates are huddled to the left of him and his own are crowded on his right, all patiently waiting for the doors to open. it’s suffocating, almost, but when a man he presumes to be her professor emerges from the exhibition room, the air mellows out.

they’re greeted with an assortment of art students standing beside their own works, each bearing a proud stance and some form of smile. he knows it’s rude, but he finds himself beelining to the corner of the room where she stands, and his little group follows suit. their chatter softens to silence as she faces them.

she does her best to treat them as anything but her friends, for the sake of professionalism and a better grade. her arrangement is minimal, but full of various techniques. she had picked up sculpting from the grandpa who lived a few doors down from her, and her efforts are evident in the detailed carvings and rounded edges of a small two-headed lamb (a homage to kageyama’s favorite piece). above the sculpture hangs two painted works, both emanating soft scenes and gentle foliage as opposed to her usual gloomy atmospheres and grotesque imagery. one of them, however, bears a familiar face.

kageyama doesn’t expect to encounter a portrait of himself. the lines are delicate, and gentle ribbons of sunlight spill onto his figure, accenting the pale hue of his skin. he tries to imagine her sitting in her studio, hunched over with aching wrists and only a broken lamp to illuminate her canvas, sketching his features out carefully. there’s a gentle tug to his heart and he can feel his ribcage contract at the sight. he doesn’t know what to say.

“this is my final project, titled ‘my blue spring,’” she begins, her hands intertwined behind her back to hide the fidgeting. “a blue spring tends to represent a season of youth and a fresh start. that is exactly how i would describe my previous spring — one full of shifts and alterations that directed me somewhere better.” her eyes catch his, briefly. “the man featured in this collection is the core of my blue spring, and the two-headed lamb is symbolic of the initial disaster he brought to my once routine lifestyle. two-headed lambs are often frowned upon as a freak of nature, however, this one was welcomed with open arms. i hope that, next spring, there will be even more waiting for me.”

there’s a moment of applause by the little crowd she formed for herself, but for him, it’s nothing but white noise. he can only focus on the warm smile she gifts him with. it’s one he wants to engrave into his memory.

out of courtesy, he follows the group in their expedition around the rest of the room, however, he can’t seem to tear his mind away from the little two-headed lamb she had constructed with her own hands — it was a happier one, a far cry from the desolate creatures he admired before. it had yet to witness the hatred of the world, and it’s wool still maintained a silky fluff, representative of its purity.

the call of his name pulls him out from beneath the water, and he pivots around to face the source. she approaches him swiftly with a slight bounce in her step, and on instinct, his arms wrap around her. “you did great,” he whispers. for a moment, his words are lost on his tongue. he has too much to say, so instead, he suffices for a small, “i loved it. all of it.”

“i’m glad,” she whispers back, and he resists placing a kiss to her forehead in fear of being teased by his roommates who stand only a few feet away. “after all, you were my muse for this exhibit.”

the sentiment makes his chest flutter and tighten. “will i be your muse for the next one, too?”

“of course. you’ll be my muse in every life after this, i hope.”

kageyama tobio, once a classmate she only had to tutor, stands before her as the sole recipient of all the love she was so hesitant to give before. she’s more than content with that.

𝜗𝜚 it's finally over ^^ thank u for reading !

𝜗𝜚 i'll probably make a moodboard showing an idea of what yn's art style is because the description of the paintings might be a little weird without that visualization ... but just think of classical romanticism

𝜗𝜚 bros gc was split on whether yn and kags would get together in less than or more than a year. obvs bo and shoyo said more than a year LOL

𝜗𝜚 hopefully u all enjoyed and i hope that this chapter makes sense bc i love it sm

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive @aboutkiyoomi

[awakenedevildays]

am I the only one who doesn't find attractive when dicks in smuts are super long? I just read a fic where the male character's dick was 11 inches (which is like 30 cm)… like- how is that even possible and how on earth am I supposed to even DEAL with something like that? do I use it as a baseball bat?

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it fit" THE HELL YOU WILL?! STAY AWAY

(I'm not trying to offend any author here, I think we all have the right to write every kink and preferences we have so don't take this too seriously, you're doing great 🩷🙏🏻)

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

two; here we go again // the red strings bring you back to me

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, divorced!reader, fluff, healing from past marriage

wc. 6.8k

featured track. haze by LUCY

you have me. even when you think you don't. i was only ever yours to begin with.

kageyama tobio accepted the offer to play with ali roma that following season. 

you had seemed happier in the following weeks with no recollection of the night of your birthday, so he tells himself that he is happy for you that you managed to mend whatever it was in your marriage. not that it ever stops him from thinking that he wouldn’t have allowed it to happen in the first place if he was your husband. if, if, if. 

but he isn’t, so he throws himself into volleyball, the love of his life. between the busy season leading up to the olympics and moving to italy, he didn’t have much time to miss you anyway. 

you didn’t normally text or call each other outside of volleyball, the only thing that threads a very thin connection between you, so he sort of lost contact with you naturally, the delicate string unraveling through disuse. 

it’s been many months since he settled in italy, so he gathers it’s time to move on with his life—move on from you. he thinks he is actually doing alright in that department, chasing after whispers of your name on written articles, posts, updates significantly less than he used to when he first moved there.

once again, kageyama forgets to account for the variable that is you. 

because he finds you knocking on his apartment door as he returns from his grocery run, and his arms slacken, bags falling to the wooden floor. a tomato tumbles out onto the floorboard. he wonders if he is hallucinating—he thought he had been doing so well in the moving-on-from-you department too. 

“kageyama!” he finds himself flustered at the lack of formalities coming from you. 

“kuroo-san? w–what are you doing here?” how did you even find where he lives? 

“didn’t you send me that text to drop by if i visit italy? you didn’t tell me you changed your mind.” you help him with the bags as he fumbles with his keys. why won’t the key fob just orient itself properly? 

wait, the text? he didn’t text you, did he? finally, the lock on his front door registers the presence of the fob and unlocks. he realizes belatedly, as you set down his groceries on the kitchen floor, that he must have accidentally sent you the text that was meant for hinata. 

no wonder hinata never said anything about it. 

kageyama wisely chooses not to mention his mistake to you. he listens to you point out a few things you’ve noticed in your trip so far—the gorgeous architecture, the gelato storefronts that seem to line every other block, the mouthwatering food you tried so far—patiently waiting for you to explain this bizarre situation to him. 

it is extremely out-of-character for you to show up unannounced, and not to mention, formalities and boundaries be damned. and you are rambling, seemingly nervous, your tell of tucking your hair behind your ear giving you away. 

so he nods along with you, commenting here and there, pretending like all of this is normal (when none of it is) as you make yourself at home at his kitchen island, telling him stories while watching him put his groceries away.

kageyama could almost pretend that this is your domestic life. one in another world where the gods favored him.

he recognizes the glint of wildness in your eyes, the look when you take a leap of faith, uncalculated faith, trusting, hoping that you will land on the other side safely. 

“say, if, if aeroitalia smi roma gave me an offer to join them here in italy next season. what would you do if you were me?”

aeroitalia smi roma. here in italy. a barrage of questions appear, one that especially looms above them all. his eyes wander to your hands, noting the absence of the gold band on your ring finger. he tamps down on the blind hope rising to the surface of his heart. 

“i would take it. they’re one of the best in italy.” but what about kuroo-san?

you nod at his statement, mostly to yourself. he registers the faraway look in your eyes as you turn to look out the window at the busy streets below. 

he could almost taste the hope on his tongue, could almost imagine a life shared with you, doing groceries together, having you stare out his kitchen window as you are now on a lazy saturday afternoon, a cup of steaming hot latte in your hands. almost.

“could i ask you for a favor?” 

“anything.” he breathes. 

another lifetime where you would barrage him to decorate his relatively empty apartment, its four plaster walls empty and unused, to make his place feel like a home. 

“i am going to need a tour guide when i come back.” you look pointedly at him. 

he tries not to let his smile shine through too much. “when you come back?”

this lifetime where he would take anything you are willing to offer, make his peace with it. it has been so long he’s almost forgotten it, how easy it was to be around you, natural as breathing, familiar as a volleyball in between his palms. 

as though he’s a desolate tree that survived all winter, the chill that festered in his bones being chased away by your warm gentle rays of sunlight from the unexpectedly early spring.

“you know, if aeroitalia did give me an offer.”

“i have barely been here for a year.” he laughs, coming to a stop next to you, staring out at the streets.

“still barely a year longer than me. plus, you can speak some italian, right?” you elbow him. 

“i guess i will see you then, huh?” he tilts his head at you, dimples showing. you smile back at him—barely, a ghost of what it used to be. 

he makes a vow to the gods that he would do anything to bring it back. anything.

“i’ll be two doors away if you need me.” you think kageyama was being polite as he helped you lug your suitcases up twelve flights of stairs with the elevator undergoing maintenance. 

you bang your head on the wall in embarrassment. what exactly were you thinking when you showed up at kageyama’s apartment last month, and then pestered him with your stupid questions about moving to italy?

oh my god. he was probably just being polite and didn’t know how to tell you off. your relationship with kageyama had been strictly work-related, but you went off the rails, too worried about the move to italy while finalizing your divorce to be anxious over what he thought of you. 

you ignore the uneasiness in your chest as you fish your phone out, feeling a buzz from it. 

it’s a text from kageyama. you alright over there? shit. that was the wall between your apartments, wasn’t it? you text back a yep! before letting your shame out in a silent scream. 

you make quick work of putting your essentials away, clothes, toiletries, packed food ingredients (as kageyama suggested), and some miscellaneous things that you managed to fit in two suitcases. the apartment came furnished, and two suitcases wasn’t much to begin with, having left most of the items from your previous marriage behind. 

the sun is setting by the time you finish. the apartment looking just a little less vacant with your jacket strewn over the back of your couch, sauces and seasonings dotting the space next to the stovetop for now. 

it’s not home, but it will do, for the time being. until you could fill in the missing fixtures and appliances, like a coat hanger for the front door, some bathroom necessities, kitchen knives. the list grows by the second as you survey your new space from where you are curled up by the kitchen window.

you lean your head against the wooden panels, admiring the yolk-colored ball of fire casting its final rays of light over the bustling city before darkness falls, much like flipping the last page of the chapter. 

you stay there until the last strand of sunlight disappears over the horizon, rome now enveloped in specks of yellow. the sun will rise again tomorrow, it’s time to start a fresh page. 

still, it feels odd knowing you are the only one who will walk through the front door every evening, that you have this space all to yourself. 

your habitual tadaima slipping from your lips to no one in particular as you cross the threshold of your apartment, not that kuroo was ever present physically or mentally to welcome you home with a responding okaeri. on days when he came home after you (which was most), he often beelined for the shower, briefcase left at the front door, which he would come back to later, flipping through project documents past working hours. 

you could probably count on ten fingers the handful of times that he even noticed your presence in the living room and mumbled a tadaima before tugging off his tie in the last year of your marriage. 

it is easy to forget how much your life has changed during the day, occupied with the pace of practice and the frenzy of filling your apartment. so easy to gloss over the kuroo-shaped hole in your heart when the sound of the cities floods out the voices in your head. 

when the night falls, and the city quiets, that’s when it gets loud. the sound of nothing, the crackling static gets so deafening in your ears, your mind, overwhelming your senses. 

the realization that you really left everyone who’s ever loved you behind in japan to find something new, different in a foreign country, its tongue that you are struggling to decipher, the loneliness of being abroad. 

the hollowness in your chest that amplifies the nothingness in your ears. 

you have taken a liking to the city nightscape, eyes staring out at nothing in particular as you sit by the window by your lonesome, trying your very best to adapt and learn to be comfortable alone in your spacious apartment. to allow your thoughts and fears and hopes to speak to you while the static buzzes in the background, acknowledging them and letting them flow over and through you. 

i hear you. 

it gets easier to breathe the more you sit by the window overlooking the city. the sense of loss that once pressed on you at every waking moment dulls to a quiet throb. 

you look out the window, where the first rays of sunlight peek over the city, dancing through the window and illuminating your kitchen in its softness, loosening a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

it’s the first morning you actually see the sunrise, legs cramping, as the sun climbs over the horizon, wishing you a good morning, since you moved in weeks ago. 

it feels like deja vu as kageyama tobio finds you outside his apartment door, arm poised to knock on it, except you don’t. still as a statue, you stand frozen in doubt, the only movement from your fingers flexing and curling catching his eye. 

even the shadows themselves seem to curl tighter around you as he approaches you carefully, as if you were a wild animal emerging from hibernation that would vanish back into the darkness at the slightest disturbance. 

the gods must be over the moon with the new creative ways they are coming up with to toy with his heartstrings. the roles so starkly reversed between you and him, his once brilliant sun reduced to mere echoes of its former glory, leaving him to play what used to be your role and bring you out of your shell.

kageyama wonders if it would be appropriate if he poked fun at you the way you used to at him,  if he would be overstepping his lines. then again, the lines had been blurred and redrawn over the past month, he thinks, remembering the first time you reached out to him after dropping by without notice, not really volleyball related.

hey! what should i bring to italy? you had texted him, the bubble showing that you’re still typing. like stuff you can’t get there.

he had thought long and hard about it before replying—curry cubes. perhaps that one was too specific, as he follows up with another text. sorry. anything you like to eat in japan, it’s hard to get japanese ingredients here. you had reacted to his message with a heart and left it at that.

and then more random messages. 

do i need to bring a rice cooker? probably not…? i bought mine here. [image attachment] maybe i should bring one… 

kageyama couldn’t help but laugh at that one. did you really have such specific preferences?

hey, do you think rome has nice soy sauce? just bring it.

how cold does it get there? tokyo is much colder, just bring your lighter coats.

he could just try. what’s the worst that could happen, right?

“hey.” he feels bad as you flinch at his sudden appearance, having half a mind to scurry back to the safety of your apartment, but it was too late—you have been spotted. “the door isn’t going to bite.”

“oh, hey, i wasn’t sure if you were home.” you rub the back of your head sheepishly. 

“our practice ended late, what’s up?” he spies the stack of curry cube packages under your other arm, the thought of you remembering the stupid text he sent without thinking and bringing him all those boxes from japan making him flush. 

he puts a mental hand over his heart to calm it from jumping out of his ribcage into your hands.

gods above, the effect that you have on him with every little gesture, all of them flying blissfully over your head. that’s one thing he can thank the gods for, at least.

you hand him the stack, tucking a stray curl of hair behind your ear. “a token of appreciation for all your troubles, kageyama.”

and because he was feeling a little bold, he jokes, “are you the same y/n who turned up at my door a month ago?” 

“oh, you’re one to speak,” you roll your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching in a small smile. “there are two wolves in me, okay? one is batshit nuts, you know her, the one you see on court. the other one is me, and you drew the short stick today.”

kageyama knows he’s nowhere close to getting over you with the way the smallest hint of a smile from you sends his heart skittering, the way he is offering up everything he has to the role he has been asked to play so that you might shine freely once again, not for him but for you.

despite the stamped out selfish hope that maybe, maybe you might fall for him this time, he earnestly wants to weather the passing storm by your side, so you might walk out to clear blue skies, cloudless and unburdened. so you might smile freely once more, even if it's not meant for him. 

“wanna come in? i’m making pasta for dinner.” he holds up the bag of groceries he picked up from the corner shop on the way home. 

you hesitate, not unwillingly, more so from not wanting to intrude on his personal space. “you don’t have to—”

“you’ve already shown up unannounced once, what’s another?” 

you flush with embarrassment at the thought of that time. not your brightest moment. “gods, will you ever let me live that down? i really don’t want to be a bother.”

“c’mon, you’re not. promise.” he gestures for you to enter his apartment. 

you lean against his counter awkwardly as you watch him lay out the ingredients, prepping the table surface to actually make pasta from scratch. he notes the surprise on your face.

“i actually can’t cook very well, but making pasta is surprisingly therapeutic.” kageyama explains while he measures out the flour and salt, making a well in the center of the mixture to crack the eggs in. he whisks the eggs before slowly stirring in the flour mixture methodically. 

“wanna try?” he offers after seeing the entranced look in your eyes. you nod, scrubbing your hands with soap before taking over the kneading of the pasta dough from kageyama.

he watches you quietly as you poke the tip of your tongue out the side, attention completely focused on folding and pressing the dough and repeating the motion, taking note of the downward turn of the corners of your eyes, the haunted look in your eyes when you forget to hide it. 

your hand waving in his face breaks him out of his thoughts. “kageyama?”

“what happened to your formalities?” he blurts. where is the line between us?

you give him a questioning look. 

he corrects himself, “i’m kageyama-san to you, and you’re kuroo-san to me, remember?”

“oh, that. i’m not kuroo-san anymore. we finalized our divorce before i moved here. if you prefer that, i can go back to calling you kageyama-san.” you brush your divorce off as if it is ancient history, as if it doesn’t leave an emptiness in your chest where you used to feel love for him. 

“i’m sorry to hear that.” he shouldn’t have asked. for various reasons not limited to the way the hope in him perks its head up at the confirmation that kuroo is out of your life for good. 

“it’s fine, it’s been coming, i just chose to look the other way.” you squint at the dough, suddenly kneading it with more force, your previous child-like delight now gone at the mention of your failed marriage. 

kageyama really shouldn’t have asked. he hates to be the one who took away your fun and soured your mood with that question. that you still look devastatingly beautiful despite the sorrow etched in your soul. 

“you can call me tobio. since we are friends outside of work now.” he hopes that his hair is covering the warm tips of his ears.

“sure,” you shrug, “you know you’re the only one who called me that or oumae-san anyway, right? old man.”

“oh wow, going right to insulting me. is this your other wolf appearing?” he shoots back drily as he nudges you out of the way. “go put something on the tv, we need to rest the dough for twenty minutes.”

your clear and bright laughter fills his apartment as you back out of the kitchen, hands up in surrender, a sparkle in your eyes and that smile appearing on your lips, chasing away the darkness. 

he thinks this may not be as hard as he thought after all, playful banters with you. anything to chase away your ghosts. 

and suddenly the one-bedroom apartment feels like home to kageyama tobio. 

months slip by, summer’s warmth finally giving way to crunchy leaves beneath your feet and cool breezes caressing your skin softly with a lover’s touch. 

kageyama tobio and you are nothing if not creatures of routine, taking turns at your apartments during the weekdays to make dinner since it’s so much easier to make dinner for two than one and significantly time-saving to not have to go through the twenty steps of cooking by yourself every day.

though you find yourself at his apartment more than yours, his skillful hands diligently prepping ingredients, slicing them with precision, following the recipe methodically with you as his assistant (who lounges at kitchen island a little too much, head on hand, watching him work, because gods, his hands, larger than your own, fingers unbelievably slender and elegant despite all the training he puts them through. you are envious of them, and just a tad obsessed.) 

tobio would catch you staring sometimes, and you would look away, pretend to be unfazed, ignoring the blood racing through your veins. gods really do have a favorite. 

you grew to enjoy his company, so unlike the quiet solitude of home that you were used to. his dry humor and his quiet steady presence. his cooking, really. you wonder what his fans would make of that, since he had once admitted to being a bad cook in an interview that lives on somewhere on the internet. 

perhaps that precision of his is the reason the food he makes tastes so sinfully delicious on your tongue. 

you had felt restless at first, unused to having so much time on your hands after being used to spending most of your own free time for more practice, more work, since kuroo was rarely home before the late hours of the night. 

it never quite felt like home without him in that ninety-five square meter apartment—larger than most middle class homes yet so devoid of life and love that makes somewhere home. the luxury that you were able to afford given the size of your paychecks was never quite put to good use in those two years of your marriage.

“i’m feeling like some gelato today, want some?”

kageyama joins you out on the balcony, wiping his wet hands on the black cat apron you bought for him on a whim—a gift. it reminded you of his image in most people’s minds, a hissy and fussy cat who hates people, and to be honest (and maybe a little biased), you do enjoy that side of him. 

it’s endearing, especially since you’re one of the few special humans that the picky cat likes. he really does act like a cat. 

he had moved to italy a year before you, and being more familiar with the local culture, quickly became your go-to person to help you navigate the everyday life responsibilities from setting up your internet to the oddly laxed city disposal system. or the unlucky time your air conditioning stopped working in the peak of summer, barely weeks into your new apartment, your broken italian barely any help as you attempt to call a technician. 

you remember having to resort to knocking on his door with a sheepish smile, rambling about the bind you were in and asking him if he could talk to the technician on your behalf. he had nodded, taking the phone from you and speaking into it, italian rough but so much more fluent than yours. his usually deep solemn voice just half a pitch higher and more expressive.

his unresponsiveness had you twiddling your thumbs in nervousness as he padded into your apartment, still on the phone and with you following closely, and proceeded to slam a fist into the side of the air conditioning unit before turning it back on. 

the unit sputtered to life and you sighed in relief. “oh thank the gods.”

“the technician said he’ll stop by tomorrow in the evening because he has other calls to attend to from the unusually hot weather. i’ll be back from practice by then.” 

“thank you, tobio.” you had smiled at him gratefully. you hated having to rely on other people for help with things that you should be able to do on your own, so accustomed to being hyperindependent, but tobio makes it easy to come to him for help. mostly due to the fact that he never makes you feel bad about asking for help, even though you do still feel bad about bothering him with all the stupid everyday life problems. 

you had somehow wormed your way into his life and he had graciously allowed you to stay beyond all the times that you needed his help, steadily and unknowingly becoming your dearest friend. 

you hum in response, giving gelato another thought since the air is turning chilly as the sun dips lower over the horizon, dusk creeping closer by the minute. “sure, why not?”

now, walking through the streets of rome at dusk in the cool autumnal weather for gelato was not what you expected when you agreed to it. you had expected smooth cold gelato melting on your tongue in the comfort and warmth of tobio’s apartment. not this.

goosebumps scattered across your skin under your sweater, teeth chattering slightly thanks to the cold dessert dropping your body heat further. your stubborn ass had rejected tobio’s offer of a jacket at the door, thinking your sweater would be warm enough for the autumn breezes. 

apparently not if you’re eating gelato.

you didn’t have the heart to tell him no after finding out that the little trip would entail trekking fifteen minutes into the city and then back, with gelato, on a cool autumn night. 

tobio has a way of making you go along with his whims without even trying. 

you let out another shiver, cold fingers gripping the paper cup. he stifles his low chuckle by stuffing another spoonful of gelato in his mouth. 

“what?” you narrow your eyes at the man, challenging him to say it. i told you so.

he shrugs, licking his spoon clean. 

you look away from him, shoving the last mouthful of gelato between your cold cheeks and dumping the paper cup and spoon into a trashcan as you pass by.

a heavy warmth settles over your shoulders as you stick your hands into your pockets, surprise lining your eyes for a few seconds before realization sets in that tobio is draping his jacket over your shoulders. 

tobio, who’s always known what you needed when you needed it. tobio, who’s always done it without guilt tripping you, no ‘i told you so’s or ‘you should have listened to me’s. tobio, who welcomed you into his life and stayed without asking for anything in return, his warm and steady presence providing you comfort just from knowing that he is right next to you. 

the light brushes against your elbows when you work in the kitchen, arriving just as you space out a little too much while waiting for the onions to cook or staring out the window, the task before you forgotten. the gentle touches that grounds you back to reality, a quiet reminder that you are not alone. 

you wonder if he knows how he makes you feel at ease, at home, and sometimes, when you catch a soft knowing smile on his lips at your boisterous laughter, you wonder if he is doing it with intention.

what kind of heroic deeds did you do in your past life to earn the favor of the gods?

you spin around to face him, only to have him take a step back as a biker zooms by, hands gripping your shoulders, pushing you away from the hazard, his back towards the open street. he glances back at the rider who is long gone, frowning at their carelessness. 

his cheeks are pink from the cold, navy eyes sweeping over you to check that you’re fine. 

“are you cold?” you ask him, hands already moving to return the jacket to its owner.

“no, keep it.” 

you nod your thanks and pull your arms through the sleeves. your silhouette drowns in his already oversized jacket. the remnants of his warmth and the thickness of his jacket keep you warm the entire way home, just as it always does. 

tobio shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of your apartments, towards home. tobio, who had teased you and laughed with you, sat with you in silence and talked to you over dinner, walked with you on that rocky path back towards the light. 

somewhere deep inside you, the smallest bud springs to life on a barren branch, hope, quiet and unsure, stirs in its dormancy.

the lines between you and kageyama tobio keep rewriting themselves. 

lines that were blurred and redrawn, over and over until the first lines were unrecognizable. it feels like drawing lines on sand, only to have waves wiping the slate clean, leaving you to hastily put down some semblance of a line. 

as if the gods are laughing in your face, telling you that you are wrong and to try again. 

so you threw the stick away. 

it was not a conscious decision, not at first. you had just accidentally let it slip, the thing that kept you up at night, the whispers that only quieted at the sight of the midnight skies. the endless expanse of it and the deep blue hues stretching as far as the eye could see, occasionally broken up by wafts of clouds floating through.

lighter than the dark skies of your hometown in rural japan where there was less light pollution from the sparse street lights dotting the farmlands. but it was the same skies, same stars light years away from earth that your obaasan taught you to navigate with if you ever got lost in the forest behind your home. 

the home you left behind to chase after your dreams in the city, and with it, your grandmother. the home you left again once more to outrun your bad decisions. 

tobio, to his credit, had listened intently to you on his balcony that night, both of you sitting cross-legged with your backs against the door, elbows grazing lightly, and assured you that your fears were in fact, not stupid. 

maybe it’s his comforting presence, or the way he ponders over the secrets you handed to him without judgment, but you seem to spill at the seams when he is around, unafraid to bare your soul to your—kindred spirit. maybe it’s the words that fall from his lips meant only for you, roughly thrown together, not without care, merely earnest and unembellished, sincerity clear in his focused gaze. 

though certainly, bringing up one of your deepest fears in the middle of a farmer’s market was the last thing on your mind, and tobio’s, you are sure. yet here you are, words pouring out from your heart at the sight of flowers, one of the last hurdles that still sticks tall. 

“do you think one day i won’t be broken anymore?” you gently thumb the soft petal of an amaryllis, feeling the ever so slight give under the pad of your thumb grounding you from the pain that your memories brought to the surface. 

tobio frowns at your words—he hates them. “you’re not broken.” if you were not in public, with people weaving around the different stalls, he might have tried to shake some sense into you, literally. 

oh, if only he knew. your heart twists, hand dropping to your side, flower forgotten. “he was in love with the idea of me. with an olympic setter as his wife, the trophy to his jva corner office. and i was too blind to see it, even tricked myself into thinking that i was in love, when really all along, we were just in pain.” 

you point at where your heart resides, finger digging into the soft flesh cushioning your sternum. “in here. i’m irreversibly broken deep in here. some part of me that rots in the darkness, never able to see the light of day. despite having fallen out of love with him months ago, stopped expecting anything from him, i fear that i’m still broken, tobio.”

the tip of your index finger—and nail—turning white with the amount of force you’re prodding yourself with. as if you wished you could pluck the beating broken but healing organ out of your chest and replace it with an undamaged one. nothing but a strangled mess of scarred tissue growing over old wounds that bleed with ease, too much ease. still fucking broken. 

“you are more than that. more than that wounded part of yourself that you’re healing. you’re not broken.” he deftly draws your hand away from yourself, holding it because he wanted to, drawing circles into the back of your hand to remind you that you are not alone. the crowd melts away, leaving the two of you in your bubble of imagined intimacy. “you’re not broken.”

“i can’t even look at my favorite flowers without being reminded of the times he would buy them as a late apology and a rain check he never made up for. and i would wonder if there’s something wrong with me, some explanation as to why having a husband is no more different than not having one.” you blink rapidly, fingers tightening on his hand as if he could keep the helplessness at bay that way. “some reason as to why it felt more like living with a stranger i love under the same roof in that last year. he just had something to prove and i just wanted him to love me.”

“when you find the right person, they will love you the way you deserve to be loved, with everything they have. they will make sure you never doubt yourself ever again.” tobio pins you with a determined stare, the words weighing heavy on his heart, knowing that he might have you to himself in this very moment, but not forever. not forever. 

does he have to watch you fall in love this time? gods, they really have it out for him. would he even survive it this time? 

you falter, hand around his slacking in defeat. “you don’t know that.” 

you cannot fathom anyone choosing to love you, with all the jagged edges and uncertainty. 

“i know that you deserve more than him, so don’t settle for anything less than you do. trust that the right person will come along.” he says it with so much conviction that you could have mistaken him for one of the gods that chart your destiny. 

you wanted to ask him why—why he seems to believe that with his whole heart despite yourself—but the brush on your sleeve from a passing shopper breaks you out of the imaginary depths of your fears, shattering the illusion of privacy. 

what had gotten into you today? 

you recover from your momentary meltdown in public, instincts to guard and deflect kicking in among the many ears that could be listening to a conversation that should have been kept behind closed doors. “are you speaking from experience?” 

“never been in a relationship, actually.” he smiles a wistful smile at you, deciding to release his hold on your hand—as if he himself also just remembered that you are in the public eye. 

“huh, i would have thought otherwise.” 

tobio rolls his eyes playfully at your teasing. “don’t even start, i know i’m not good with words.”

“no, really. it’s a wonder you haven’t been snatched up by anyone yet.” 

“now you're just flattering me because you want me to make the carbonara pasta that you’ve been begging me to make for the past week.” 

you gape at him, in disbelief that he would use that against you when you are doing nothing but giving him a sincere compliment.

“i’m being real here. whoever you choose to love would be lucky to have you. and if they don’t feel that way, it’s their loss, really.” you gesture with an outsplayed hand, turning back to the selection of flowers, wandering down the row of autumnal varieties. 

tobio presses two fingers to his temple, sighing as he mutters under his breath, exasperated words a soft whisper on the breeze, “too bad she’s too dense to realize it.”

he panics a little at the thought of you picking his words up as you turn around with your head tipped to the side in confusion, “what did you say?”

“nothing, just that the amaryllis is pretty. you should get it.” he blurts, just happy that his muddled brain was able to come with something on the spot. never mind that he just name dropped a flower, one of many that he learnt because you once loved them, still do, it seems, just tainted by your past. 

you shake your head at him, already looking forward. “it’s alright, let’s go look at the other stalls.” moving on from the remnants of a relationship you moved to italy to outrun, and leaving them behind. 

“wait,” a sudden thought pops into tobio’s mind, and he decides to do it without letting himself overthink it. before he loses his courage. 

you watch quietly as he picks out a stalk of carnation, a dusty pink that lightens slightly towards the tip of the petal and hands it to the shopkeeper, exchanging a few words before paying and returning with a very short stem. 

“i know you still love flowers even though they are tainted by your past,” tobio swallows, hoping he does not fuck this up like he always seem to with his words, “but i want you to know that you deserve flowers just because. it doesn’t have to be an apology, or a special occasion. you deserve them just because you like them, simple as that.”

he takes a step closer to you, watching you carefully for any hints of discomfort or anguish that you might try to hide from him for his sake—hoping that you are comfortable around him enough not to. 

you find yourself holding in your breath as you meet his eyes, mesmerized by the blue of his irises up close, warm cobalt shades dancing in the light, as if they were welcoming you, reminiscent of the night skies that fall after dusk, the same navy hues that lull you to safety. 

he tucks your hair behind your ear, his touch featherlike as he slips the carnation over the crest of your ear. “there. one day the first thought that crosses your mind when you see them will not be of him, but of how pretty they are again.”

a blink. “thank you.” the words are choked, as a wave of emotions envelop you whole. you throw your arms around him haphazardly, hugging him tightly with your eyes squeezed shut for fear of your tear ducts betraying you, leaning on him for balance with your weight on the tip of your toes because of his height. 

you yield to his warmth, comforted by his arms sliding into place around you, the familiarity tugging on a memory that you cannot seem to recover, a nagging feeling of something you forgot as seconds tick by. 

“thank you, tobio.” you say it again, releasing him shyly when you realize that you held on for moments too long, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hand for any stray tears, chuckling lightly at how emotional you are being. 

somehow it feels as if a weight has been lifted off your chest after hearing his words. 

“you are loved, y/n, by your family and friends, and your fans. you are the setter who will dethrone kageyama tobio’s rule of the court, remember?” 

you recognize the quote from one of the japanese magazines that you and tobio managed to get a hold of. it makes you laugh—the type that sends tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, leaving you breathless and light and feeling like everything will be alright—and you smile at him.

it feels strangely like coming home after a long day. 

there is a twinkle in your eyes, the return of your genuine self as you ask, “and what of kageyama tobio?”

your smile hits him like the first ray of warm sunlight when snow melts away to reveal the tiny buds sprouting at the nodes of tree branches, that first truly warm day after winter when you know that spring is here. and just like the trees that have weathered the cold season, you are shaking off the cold in your bones, ready to bloom again. 

that pureness in your smile—the invisible pull that drew him into your orbit almost three years ago now emerging reforged.

gods, you are nothing short of devastating. he knows he will never be able to love anyone else like he loves you, describing it as intense does not do it justice. try all-encompassing and consuming, leaving him defenseless and dazed and wanting more. 

is that wrong of him to feel that way? that if given a choice by the gods to do it all over again, he would still choose to love you? that there is nothing he would not do, no hell he would not descend, no winter he would not weather, just to see you smile at him unadulterated?

“he believes that you are the queen of the court.”

your smile does not falter. it deepens, reaching your eyes, curving them into joyful crescents that send his heart thundering at an inhuman pace. 

“thank you for being here. i am beginning to realize what it means to live.” you make me want to live. the unspoken words hanging in space between you. 

for the first time in a very long time, tobio finds himself praying to the gods that have long abandoned him. he can only hope that they are listening. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (gen) @mintgrumpy @noble-17 @box-of-roses (tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone (add yourself here)

a/n. i sprinkled lots of little details in this one hehehe (like how it is apartment to tobio before it becomes a home) how many did you find? *giggles while plotting* it's fluffier than i intended so i hope you enjoyed <33

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if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)