#kageyama tobio angst

[fushiguruuzzzz]

DON’T SAY GOODBYE. SMELL YOU LATER..?

T. KAGEYAMA

Content: based on this request, part of my 700 event, timestamps are not accurate/relevant, I didn’t really tie in the vast ocean part sorry, mcd, soulmates au, pure angst sorry

a/n: hate her not me. But anyway yay first req done! Are we happy!

Gen tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @gumims @aldebrana

[admiringlove]

growing pains. hello everybody. welcome to the second rendition of @angstober 2024! i hope you enjoy <3

kageyama tobio was a cute kid.

he moved in when you were just three. back then, your days were filled with learning big words, your mother patiently guiding you through children's books, when suddenly, a boy with an oversized, odd-looking ball came into your world. his hair was parted right down the middle, and every day, he’d be out in the yard, chasing after that strange ball with his grandfather, completely obsessed.

you were six when he first said hello. it took him two and a half years to work up the courage, and all because that ridiculous ball of his ended up in your front yard. without asking, he came through the gate, eyes wide with panic, just as you were about to head to the park.

“who are you?” you’d asked, head tilted with curiosity, and he’d stammered out his name like he’d been caught red-handed in a burglary. then, of course, you had to ask about the ball—bigger than his head. what was the deal with that? “it’s a volleyball,” he’d mumbled, and from that moment on, the two of you were intertwined, like a mystery waiting to unfold.

for the next ten years, kageyama tobio became your favorite puzzle. you chased after him like someone chasing a wild animal, half playfully, half determined. at first, it was a game—like you were sherlock and he, your elusive moriarty. your mother had always read you detective stories before bed, so solving the enigma that was kageyama seemed only natural.

when he turned seven, he found you in his front yard, peering through a magnifying glass, completely absorbed in your detective work. for an entire week, the two of you played with that thing, examining ants at the park, squinting at the pen strokes his father made in his books. eventually, he got bored. but you didn’t. no, you kept staring—sometimes at the world, but often at him.

you never tired of anything, especially not of him. you wanted to know more, to know everything. curiosity overflowed within you, spilling out like an unsolvable riddle. and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.

because it wasn’t just the world you wanted to uncover, not really. it was kageyama tobio. he was the one who truly fascinated you. when you learned in fifth grade that he had a soft spot for flavored milk, that was it. it became your little tradition. every so often, you’d head to the vending machine, and without fail, you’d grab him a drink—banana or strawberry, depending on the day. in return, he’d hand you the chips his mother packed in his lunch, like an unspoken exchange, as familiar as breathing. if it were up to him, it would always be strawberry.

and that’s how it was, the two of you orbiting each other like planets—his world of volleyball, your world of endless curiosity. playful, magnetic, bound together by rituals only you two understood.

you turned eleven and discovered that liking boys was a real thing. at first, the thought repulsed you; all you wanted was to bury yourself in the pages of sherlock holmes and pretend to play volleyball with kageyama. he was a prodigy, after all, dazzling everyone with his skills. kids from other districts flocked to watch him, enchanted by his talent. thankfully, he hadn’t yet transformed into an absolute twat; his ego was still catching up with him, lingering just out of reach.

“tobio,” you said one day, scrutinizing him as he carelessly set the ball near the riverbank. your gaze was fixed on the tips of his fingers, studying them as if they were an intricate puzzle waiting to be solved. he paused, turning to face you with a look of curiosity. “don’t your fingers hurt?”

“eh?” he replied, shuffling closer. with a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand toward you. “you mean this?”

the eleven-year-old boy displayed a myriad of calluses on his hands, more than you could count. you gasped in dramatic shock, a hand flying to your mouth, and couldn’t resist teasing him about his mother not noticing how rough and unsightly they had become. his eyes narrowed in mock indignation as he yelled at you for talking trash about his mother. you quickly apologized, laughter bubbling up as you declared you would simply have to complain about his “disgusting” hands instead.

that was the essence of your friendship—something sacred, woven from playful banter and shared secrets. the two of you were inseparable, bound by the threads of childhood innocence and mischief.

now, when you think back, it’s often to those moments—him proudly displaying his calluses as you played near the bridge by the river, the sun casting golden hues across the water. you remember walking home alongside him at sunset, a flutter of fear in your stomach about the kidnappers your father had warned you about just the other day. tobio had simply chuckled, telling you that you weren’t an actual genius like sherlock, so you couldn’t possibly be a target for any kidnapper anyway.

life was so simple, so beautifully uncomplicated, until you turned fourteen.

because that’s when you realized you had indeed grown up. you were on the winding road to adulthood, and suddenly, you found yourself hopelessly in love with your next-door neighbor, kageyama tobio—your best friend of eight years. he had sprouted taller, like a young tree reaching for the sky, and his voice had deepened into a rich timbre that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. everything felt like it was shifting beneath your feet, especially as he found new friends who flocked to him like birds of a feather, while you remained nestled in your closely knit circle, distanced from him.

how were you supposed to navigate these newfound feelings? the conditions were far from ideal. how could you possibly have a crush on him while trying to maintain the friendship you cherished so much, especially when your social circles had diverged at school? being a teenager had suddenly morphed into a tangled web of complexities, each strand pulling you in different directions.

you still managed to walk home with him every day after your club activities, a routine that felt like a comforting ritual. you were quickly on your way to becoming the head of your literature club at junior high, while kageyama had been consumed by his passion for volleyball since he was just a kid. being next-door neighbors with the love of your life was undeniably convenient; it meant he had no choice but to stroll alongside you.

thankfully, the dynamic remained blissfully unchanged. the playful teasing, the exchange of strawberry and banana milk, and the shared bags of cheese puffs, or sometimes other chips, were the threads that wove your friendship together. it didn’t matter what snack you had; all you really wanted was to watch him sip through a thin plastic straw, the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm halo around him as you walked the quiet streets together.

you cherished these moments, especially since he never hurried you along. instead, he walked slowly, savoring the time spent together, as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. this new pace allowed you both to appreciate the little things—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, and the gentle warmth of the sun dipping below the horizon. it felt like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and sweet, a reminder that these small moments were treasures to be cherished.

but then you turned fifteen, and tobio transformed into someone unrecognizable. the boy who had once sparked your curiosity now seemed bitter and hardened, his heart cloaked in ego that swelled within him like a balloon about to burst. his tone had sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife, and he often wore a mask of rudeness that left you reeling. yet, despite it all, your heart still weakly fluttered whenever he was near, an instinctive reaction you couldn’t quite shake.

then it happened. one fateful day, as you walked past the gym to pick up tobio, you overheard a conversation that pierced through you like an arrow.

"aren't they your childhood friend? don't you think they're attractive, even if it's just a little?"

the words lingered in the air, but before you could savor the thought, his response shattered your heart.

"what? no! i could never see them like that. this is grossing me out. stop talking nonsense and focus on volleyball. you didn't spike this set on time!"

his words struck like a hammer, relentless and unforgiving, stomping on your heart a million times without him even realizing the damage he’d done. it was as if the boy you had cherished for so long had vanished, leaving behind only a shadow of the friendship you once held dear.

that day, you walked home alone for the first time ever, the silence of the empty streets echoing the ache in your chest. when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, you felt a weight pressing down on you. the next day, he didn’t question your absence, didn’t seem to care at all. and in that moment, you understood: you were no longer the person he had once found intriguing. you were just a ghost of a past friendship, lost in the void that had replaced your bond. he was not moriarty anymore, and neither were you sherlock.

you wondered if you ever were.

slowly, you created a chasm between him and you. it was a drift you instigated, unaware of the full weight of your decision. one by one, he lost the people he once held close, and you stood on the sidelines, a silent witness, hoping desperately that he would grasp the hint you were trying to send.

then, one afternoon, while walking home with a small paper bag of eggs cradled in your arms, you collided with him. curses swirled through your mind as you attempted to sidestep him, but his voice cut through the air, halting your escape.

"aren't you cold?"

you raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze, your heart racing with an unexpected mix of hope and apprehension. you hummed softly in response, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. he repeated his question, and you shook your head, summoning a casualness you didn’t truly feel. "just a small walk. i didn't think i'd need a jacket."

"right," he mumbled under his breath, and the silence that followed felt thick with unspoken words. a part of you longed to mention his recent benching during the last match, but the fear of misinterpretation held you back, like a weight pressing on your tongue.

"are you doing okay nowadays?" the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. you still cared, a part of you reluctant to sever the last thread binding you to him. it felt like that age-old adage—"curiosity killed the cat"—echoing in your mind, a reminder of your unfulfilled longing.

he opened his mouth, perhaps to share something profound, but then hesitated. you knew his expressions as well as the lines of your own heart; he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "i'm okay. i'm going to a high school called karasuno. you?"

the answer came too quickly, and the disappointment surged within you. "i'm going to seijoh, like oikawa and iwa-senpai," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i enrolled there because i thought you'd be going there too. so, you know, we could walk together-"

he cut you off, the sharpness of his words slicing through the fragile moment. "we haven't done that in months, who are you kidding?"

you blinked, surprise washing over you like cold water. he was right. in the span of what felt like an eternity, the simple companionship you had once shared had faded into memory. perhaps your wishful thinking had blinded you to the reality; you were no longer the two kids wandering home together.

"i'm... sorry," you tilt your head, "have i done something to make you mad?"

you thought this was what he wanted—that he didn’t care for your tetra packs of strawberry or banana milk, that he was indifferent to your presence beside him as you walked home from school. the realization stung like a bee’s bite, leaving you with the unsettling notion that your companionship was as easily replaceable as the snacks you offered. but then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with that familiar exasperation, his voice laced with sarcasm that dripped like spicy honey, sweet yet sharp.

“no. you can never do anything wrong, am i right?”

with that, he turned and walked into his house, leaving you standing there, the air heavy with unsaid words.

months passed without a glimpse of him. it was only when you were returning home from literature club, the sun dipping below the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement, that you spotted him. there he was, in a black uniform, juggling a volleyball under one arm while the other struggled to pry a few papers from between his teeth as he rummaged through his bag.

“do you need any help?” your voice sliced through the crisp evening air, a tentative offering. he blinked, momentarily surprised, before handing you the scattered papers and the ball.

“y-yeah. i’m looking for my keys. ever since miwa went off to college, there’s no one to open the door when i get home.”

“right,” you nodded, trying to maintain the semblance of normalcy. you didn’t need to fill the silence anymore; you were both ghosts of the friendship that once thrived in easy conversation. “i can walk in with these if you want. help you put them wherever, since it’s hard to carry everything together-”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, a habit you had grown all too familiar with. “i can take care of myself.”

your lips pressed together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “alright then,” you replied, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

but as you turned toward your front yard, the moment shattered into a sharp breath. “why did you stop walking home with me?” his voice rang out into the twilight, a challenge hanging between you like a fragile thread.

the world around you fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words. the confrontation hung in the space between you, an echo of the past colliding with the reality of the present. you hesitated, heart racing, caught in the tension of a friendship unravelling, desperately wanting to answer but unsure of how to put the fragments of your feelings into words. "you weren't yourself, i guess. that, and i heard you say something about me to someone. but never mind that. it doesn't matter anymore."

“what?” he furrows his brows, confusion etching deep lines on his forehead. “what do you mean you heard me say something about you to someone? what the hell did i even say for this to happen to us?”

“didn’t you want this to happen?” you retort, your words tumbling out like a well-rehearsed line from a play. “i thought you found me gross.”

he blinks, taken aback, his surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “when did i ever say i found you gross? what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you echo, the fire in your chest igniting into a full blaze. you’re not quite sure where this rage is coming from, but it feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “what’s wrong with me is that it was my fault for ever loving you and thinking you could feel the same because you’re a selfish prick! you’re oblivious and dense and you don’t feel the same way about me, so i left because i didn’t want to be in a place where i wasn’t needed-”

realization crashes over you like a tidal wave in mid-sentence, the weight of your words suffocating. a hand flies to cover your mouth, the confession hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. his expression morphs into one of shock, the volleyball slipping from his grasp and hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, the way his world seems to tilt on its axis, so you turn and flee, heart racing as you dart into your house, slamming the door behind you. the echo of your confession reverberates in your mind, each heartbeat reminding you of what you just unleashed—a truth that feels like it could shatter everything.

you avoided him for months after that moment, but still, you found yourself at every game, an invisible presence in the crowd. you watched as karasuno faced off against kamomedai, your heart aching with every spike and serve, each point a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. tobio had transformed into someone new, shedding his egotistical shell like a snake sloughing off its skin, and finding camaraderie with teammates who genuinely cared for him.

it filled you with anger. why couldn’t he have made this change years ago? if only he had, maybe letting go of your feelings would have been easier. instead, you felt trapped on the sidelines of his life, a spectator to a story that once intertwined your paths.

“w-what are you doing here?” a shaky voice pulls you from your thoughts as you exit the gym. you turn, startled, to find kageyama tobio standing before you. his chest heaves with exertion, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin, and he gazes at you as if you were a relic he had lost long ago.

“i... came to watch the game,” you reply, shrugging, trying to sound casual. “you did good. i hope your friend isn’t injured, by the way.”

“yeah... he’s uh- hinata’s fine,” he nods, his words a soft echo in the tense air. “thank you for coming. it means a lot.”

you press your lips into a straight line, nodding, the weight of the moment heavy between you. it feels like the right time to leave, to escape the growing tension, but he continues.

“i felt the same way about you back then,” he says, and your heart drops, your feet seemingly glued to the ground. his melancholic gaze pierces through you, and the heartbreak looms overhead like a storm cloud ready to burst. “i’m sorry if i hurt you.”

“y-you what?” you whisper, tilting your head as disbelief washes over you. “tobio, you-”

“i can’t say i feel that way now. all i can focus on from now on is volleyball,” he sighs, his gaze falling to the floor, the weight of his words suffocating. “but it really was great being friends with you. i hope we can... try that again sometime.”

in that moment, something within you shatters, the pieces scattering like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. you realize how deeply you had clung to him, how he had become the center of your universe; an object of desire you could never grasp. slowly, painfully, he had outgrown you, moving forward as you remained rooted in the past, a decision you made to push him away when he needed you the most.

perhaps this was what you deserved. perhaps this was how it was meant to be—him, chasing his dreams like icarus, and you, watching from the side lines, heart heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes and lost chances.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[kyokikikie]

Hate

(kageyama tobio x reader)

-

-> in which two highschool students who despise each other dearly, get paired up for a project.

!enemies to lovers!

angst w no comfort

masterlist! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

she never thought the way she felt for him could change.

After all, she hated his guts. From the moment she met him in the school library, she knew that he was trouble. The way he would shout at the shorter orange haired male who was always beside him every single time made her annoyed. ‘couldn’t he just lower his voice or shut up?!’ she thought to herself.  The way he would look at almost everyone who wasn’t involved with volleyball with that bitch face as if he were trying to find a problem with them. ‘Is he trying to pick a fight?’ she would scoff whenever that happened. 

To be fair, the feeling was mutual. 

Kageyama Tobio hated her guts too. From the moment she refused to help him with his subjects, he basically considered her as arrogant, he never wanted to speak to her or ask for her help again. The way she BOUGHT THE LAST PACKET OF MILK from the vending machine ( which didn’t restock for a week ) made him irritated and unable to focus during his volleyball practice.

They both didn't cross paths or spoke for months till their homeroom teacher made them pair up for a project that they had to do. 

As expected, they both didn't say anything to each other even when they had a discussion going on. The teacher however, didn't seem to get a hint so she threatened them with a failing grade. 

“If it wasn't for my grades, I would literally throw a brick to your face.” Y/N muttered to herself. “what?” the look on the raven haired male was full of disgust, “you think I want to be here with you? tsk, shittykawa would be a better partner instead."

The girl beside him scoffed, “what makes you think I want to be here with YOU. You can't even slice a simple math question, we are going to fail anyway because of what a  dumbass you are.” 

Kageyama clenched his fist. He had never been called a dumbass by anyone other than his volleyball teammates and sister before. Oh this girl must have had a lot of nerves to say that. Before he could even return an insult, the teacher announced to the class that this project must be done in 3 weeks and is recommended to meet outside of school. 

Y/n and Kageyama both gave an annoyed look before packing their bags for dismissal. After school, Y/N went straight to the library to complete all her homework given for the day, her mind not leaving the fact that she had to meet that volleyball obsessed psycho outside of school. Either way, it was for the grade. as long as she doesn't fail, it would be fine. Although she didn't have the setter’s number… 

Y/n looked out of the library window to see the boys volleyball gym still practicing. She can't believe she's doing this. She can't believe she's actually going to the boy's volleyball gym just to find the person she hates most. Her hands slid the door open, a whole new scenery flashed across her eyes.

BAM! 

The sound of a volleyball smashed the gym’s wooden floor. It was none other than Kageyama who had put all his anger on the ball. “geez… sooner or later this boy is gonna break something." The gray haired upperclassmen, Sugawara-senpai sighed,

“Oh? Who's this? Noya, do you know her?” Suga said to the libero beside him when he spotted the H/c haired girl standing at the door. “nope!” Nishinoya exclaimed, popping the ‘p’. 

“uhm, sorry to disturb your training but may I speak to…that guy.. for a while?” Y/N pointed to the scowling setter while the two boys hid their laughs. She didn't want to say it. she didn't want to say his name.

Sugawara quickly called Kageyama over. the male was no't expecting to see Y/n standing at the door of the gym. He went over to the h/c coloured hair girl, ready to throw another insult till he was interrupted by her. “Look, don't get this the wrong way. Its all for our project. our teacher recommended us to meet outside school to complete it so I would need you number to give you heads up.”

“that's smooth.”

“shut the fuck up and just give me your number already.” “Fine.” the setter typed his number on Y/N’s device before turning his back and continued with practice.

for the first two days, things were not going well, Y/N and Kageyama almost got kicked out of the library for arguing too loudly and they didn't even manage to complete at least one part of the assignment within two days.

On the third day, Y/N had enough. there was no point in insulting him anymore there's no point when the risk of them failing is high. “Yo, I think we should just call it a truce. us arguing is not making progress at all.” The boy just nodded and they both got along with no arguments, no insults.

As days went by, Y/N realised that she despised kageyama for nothing. Sure he was loud and annoying at times but he could be a tad bit motivational when he talks about his love for volleyball. the way his eyes would glim and glitter from thinking about the feeling of setting the ball. the way his lips would curl into a smile when the thought of being able to go back to practice one the project is done made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

who knew the cold, loud kageyama tobio would have such a cute smile.

Before she even realised it, she was falling. falling hard for the boy she once hated. She didn't think that her feelings could change but there she was, lying in bed thinking about him and his silly little sport.

it was a matter of time till Kageyama found out. the way Y/N acted so differently around him made him wonder if she actually thought of them as friends.

the day the project was due, Kageyama couldn't wait to step foot in the gym where he'd almost planned to stay there overnight. Half way through the practice that he had longed for, The raven haired boy was called out by one of his upperclassmen, “Someone is finding you outside, kageyama, you can join back later alright?”

Much to his surprise, His former project parter was there, back leaning against the outer wall of the gymnasium as she crossed her arms waiting. “I thought you said you’d never want to see me again?” Tobio said, startling her, “what gives?”

“I know i said that but… i guess people change, i think?” She fiddled with her hands, “Look, i used to hate you. You and your addiction for volleyball. You and your scowling face. But, working with you for this project made me realised that i was just judging a book by its cover.”

Y/n shifted her eyes to the sandy ground.

“I think i like you kageyama.”

no response. The girl lifted up her head only to greeted with the sight of the the boy, covering his mouth as if he was trying to hold his laughter. "W-Whats so funny?"

"I was just pretending to be nice to you so we would get a passing grade, i did expect you to fall for me. HAHA you should have seen your face when you said that"

oh.

The setter's words stabbed Y/n's heart like a knife. Of course it was an act. after all, he hated her. She stood frozen, shoulders hunched as she lowered her gaze once again as if the weight of his words pressed her into the ground.

Y/n clutched onto her school bag, "It was a prank by the way." she retorted, turning around. "i didnt expect you to be that mean, kageyama." As soon as she said that, the girl walked away with a heavy heart.

Kageyama watched as she quickened her pace and disappeared from his horizon before returning to practice. Unbeknownst to him, his teammates were eavesdropping on his conversation, crowding around the setter when he stepped foot into the gym.

"Either way kageyama, you were too harsh with her." Hinata chipped in. Kaegeyama grabbed the shorter male by his hair causing him to yelp, "What do you know, dumbass."

"Hinata's right, kageyama. poor girl was holding back her tears." Suga patted him on the shoulder as he looked out the window. kageyama followed his actions.

"she said it was a prank."

"I really doubt that, kageyama."

why couldn't he do anything?

"I think I like you, kageyama"

he was at loss for words, unable to say anything. He wanted to tell her 'i like you too' but when he opened his mouth, that disgustingly awful sentence came out instead.

-

It had been weeks after the 'confession', Y/N completely ignored him whenever he tried to approach her just like the past.

All he wanted was to apologise.

she would never know that.

the confession was real.

he would never know that.

they would never know that in every other universe, kageyama tobio and Y/N L/N would always fall in love.

they would never know.

( a follow is very much appreciated 💙)

[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

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

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

[strwbrryeyes]

☼ intro (end of the world) ☼ (kageyama tobio x reader)

⟡ cw: she/her pronouns used but not much, lmk if i miss anything else

⟡ a/n: i have been wanting to write for this album since the day it came out so im gonna do little drabbles for the songs as a way to make up for my lack of writings/requests that i actually need to upload so i hope you all enjoy it :3

⟡ eternal sunshine masterlist

You had been dating Kageyama Tobio for a little over a year at this point. Everything was always moving so fast…for him. While Kageyama was constantly playing volleyball and traveling the country for official matches, you were in college working towards your dream career.

Although you and kageyama have made so many efforts to keep in contact regularly by video calling and texting constantly or even travelling to see each other when possible, it has been difficult to come to terms with the fact that you do not spend as much time as you want to with each other. It has gotten to the point where you don’t know if keeping this relationship going is even worth it anymore. Both you and Kageyama want to get through it, you have had countless talks about wanting it to work out and you both always come to the agreement that neither of you wouldn’t trade anything for the world.

You think you’re meant for each other but you keep thinking to yourself ‘why dont i know that he is the one for me? Why do I only think it?’ but of course, you shake it off and continue on with the relationship. Even with all of these thoughts of figuring out if you are supposed to be with him for life or not, there are moments where the tough times make the good times worth it…and that is what keeps the both of you going. One of those moments was on your birthday a few weeks ago when Kageyama decided to surprise you with a visit.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

After a long day of classes and your job at a doggy daycare, all you wanted to do was lay down in your bed with some comfy pajamas, eating chips without regard for the crumbs that would land on your bed sheets all while watching your favorite reality show. It was a pretty solid plan but it all went down the drain the minute you stepped foot into the hallway that had your apartment and saw that your door was opened. Your whole body filled with dread as you walked closer, worried that you had just been robbed but as you got closer you saw a small trail of silver confetti leading you through the doorway and as soon as you stepped foot infront of the entrance of your apartment, you stopped all of you belonging onto the ground and ran to the one thing that could be better than a lazy night. Your boyfriend.

“Tobio! What are you doing here?” you ask Kageyama as you jump into his arms while you become a giggling mess (who is also crying).

“I couldn’t have my angel be all alone on her birthday!” Kageyama chuckles as he embraces you in his arms but is quickly confused when you fall silent right after he finishes speaking. “[name]? You good there?” he questions you as he puts you down to be greeted with the blank expression on your face.

“My birthday..?” cocking your head to the side, you look behind Kageyama to see decorations all over your living area, eyes landing on the big ‘happy birthday’ sign. You had completely forgotten today was your birthday. 

“Babe, don’t tell me you forgot your birthday?” Kageyama laughs out before pulling you in for another hug “and you say i’m the dense one.” he flicks your forehead before kissing it and all you can do is laugh along with him.

The rest of the night was pure bliss as you layed in bed with your loved one, eating your favorite type of sweet from your favortie bakery down the stree, while watching your reality tv show.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

Thinking about this small but memorable event, you can’t help but smile as it helps you become certain that you and Kageyama are meant to be. You now knew that Kageyama Tobio would be the first and last person you run to if the world were to ever end and honestly, as your pulled out of your thoughts by your ringing phone that is signaling you that your boyfriend is calling you, you wouldn’t have it any other day.

[pinkisthenewangst]

°`🍨: Haikyuu x GN! Reader/ Ryujin Nippon x Reader

°`🍨: Spoiling it by saying something stupid like "I love you"

When you stepped on the court, you took my breath away. As if time stopped, I was only able to look at you. Your smile, your trembling lips from the nerves you probably felt before the match and your shining eyes from excitement, made my heart beat faster. It felt like it bumped as fast as one of your spikes, hitting your opponent's field, scoring an important point for your team. The screams from pure joy you released with your fans while bumping the air, made me shake in my seat as if your joy was infectious. Your chest always looked wider when it swelled with pride. Even if you lost your match, you stayed humble while salty tears stained your cheeks. It didn't help that I always feel like falling in love all over again, sitting near the court watching you living your dream. From the day I met you, I knew I got hit by cupid's oh so stupid arrows straight through my heart. My cheeks burned in a glowing red when you smiled at me. Your cheeky remarks when I tried to help you train even if it was your day off, where you should have rested, made butterflies fly wildly through my stomach. I never once have felt disappointed for giving you my heart in secret through small gestures until my chest was empty. Only a black hole remained, but I was satisfied with it. I only wanted to support you, be there when you held the gold in your own hand for the first time, hug you when the pressure got to you and smile proudly when I talk about you to my other friends. Friends knew how I felt, but only you weren’t able to see it. My eyes going soft after a long day when I heard your laugh. My sweaty hands, that I rub on the texture of my jeans when I am near you. My shaky voice, when I feel a little bit too much love for you right at this moment you look at me. But I was never sad that you didn't see any of these hints. Being your friend made me happy enough to live on like that. Ignoring my own feelings to protect you from this trouble. Never having the heart to stand between you and your love for volleyball. But I still ruined it. It was only a moment between us two. A moment where I wasn't careful enough. Talking, yapping and rambling about my feelings after a long time, and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you”. When I realized what I said, my smile faded like the colour in my face. My breath stuck in my throat and I started to tear up. I didn't even need to hear your answer to my sudden confession. Your troubled face made it clear enough. My love for you would only chain you to me and rob you from your freedom. The freedom you need to spread your wings to fly high in the sky. I started to run. Faster than I thought I ever could and never stopped. I never once stopped to run away from you, your answer, my feelings and the future that could have been. A future at your side, like I wished to be. I ignored your calls and never opened your text messages. I even went so far to buy a new phone with a new number to never let you catch up to me. I loved you so strongly, that I feared you needed to choose between me and volleyball that you loved with your whole body, mind and soul. I was scared to imagine this moment. So I just choose to run. I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself if you are hurt by me and my stupid feelings. And now I was only a ghost. A ghost standing between so many fans, that you were never able to spot me if you tried to look for me. A shadow that disappeared before you went to greet your fans, that supported you like I always will. This was enough for me and it needed to be. I just hope you still will remember my promise to always be your number one fan, that never stopped running, hurting and crumbling because of my stupid feelings I never lost for you.

°`🍨: I was very much invested in the olympics 2024 but i also felt great to see Yuki Ishikawa finally live ! (Online, i don't have the funds to see him in person-). I also started to watch Haikyuu again so have a lil text that could match both of my obsessions ! 🫡

°`🍨: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

[satoujo]

!disclaimer none of the works featured on this blog belong to me. all reachable creators were asked for permission to have their work linked on here

main directory

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

➵ series: story consisted of multiple chapters

➵ one-shot: a single piece of standalone work; can be any length, such as from 1k to 80k words

➵ drabbles: short piece of writing; typically under 1k words and usually around 100 words

➵ blurbs & others: small short description, headcanons, etc.

❀ = fluff ⋆˚ ✧ = angst ⋆˚ ♡ = smut ⋆˚ ✄ = crack

SERIES

tba

ONE-SHOT

tba

DRABBLE

domestic: anniversary dinner (❀) by @augustinewrites

warnings/notes: none

Demanding Attention  (❀✄) by @emmyrosee

warnings/notes: banter, ushijima makes an appearance or mention rather

BLURBS & OTHERS

tba

updated: dec 25, 2023

[tsukimirecs]

olympic team hq!! // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works ⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*

atsumu

neon lights (in a world gray) triple trouble drunk mind sober heart green with envy a commemoration of firsts till one of us caves long black anyways, don't be a stranger

kageyama

fate when one door closes stolen kisses miscommunication him?! haunt me volleyball on the brain you can hear it in the silence

sakusa

soft and wet public transit miscarry it's still love drawing our moments bed this victory is mine, and yours touch starved

oikawa

babygirl pinch two stories settle always perfect pain split here's to the sixth time

ushijima

request trust fall atlas bitter / sweet soft, but for you only in time page 304

bokuto

inferior an accidental heroine as loud as you like lucid swept up in the moment heart attack

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. HQ BOYS AS TWITTER LINKS !

⤷ LINKS ﹫ smut ﹫

⌗ bokuto, kageyama, kuroo, kenma, atsumu, osamu, suna, iwaizumi

⚠︎ porn without plot, cunniligus, rough sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), slight public sex .ᐟ.ᐟ

bokuto kotaro

- making out after a long day

- eating you out like it’s his dinner

- taking care of you like a goddess

- taking you as he pleases

- lives to see you on top of him

- don’t even know he’s making you squirt

hajime iwaizumi

- fingering his girl and making sure she loves it

- when he has bad days, you’re the first one to know it

- late nights back shots

- how he hold your tits cause he loves them

- coming home to his sweet wife after a rough day

suna rintaro

- taking a video of you riding him so beautifully

- making sure you’re moaning loudly

- when he’s lazy

- asking videos of you when he’s far for a game

- he lives to tease you

- never finish without making you squirt

atsumu miya

- atsumu loves it rough

- cum just at the sight of you

- pics he’d keep carefully

- just the tip? nah.

- mutual masturbation

- “you’re gonna break the bed!” “we’ll get a new one”

kenma kozume

- when he’s too lazy and wants to see you do all the work beautifully

- the beautiful lace set he bought you

- you distracted him from his games

- still making you do the work

- after a long exhausting stream

- kenma is lazy but when he’s into something…

kuroo tetsuro

- autopilot is useful in his new car

- knows just how to make you see the stars

- ass guy

- red is still his favourite color

- couldn’t even wait to be in the bed

- taking you right before the shower

kageyama tobio

- always fond of his girl

- burry himself deep

- fingering while his dick is in your ass

- eating you out like it’s a competition

- the first time you did it you thought he was gentle when it came to sex

- he does so much workout for volley and this

[plagalkey]

F1 AU flirting ✌️

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

[romaevelizz]

now playing crying at the chapel by elvis presley…

˖ ࣪⊹Tears falling down his face as he watched you walking down that isle. Never in millions of years did he think he’d be crying in front of so many people. Tears of joy knowing that you’d be his forever and until you died old together. How the white dress you wore looked so beautiful long making you look like a princess he longed for. You were the reason for his tears, knowing a long future with you awaited him, a dream you’ve had since you where a little girl. A dream he’d promised you. That you’d be the women he’d wake up and go to sleep everyday next to, the women to carry his child. God what did he do right to have you sent to him. He was just a man and you were a god given gift, tears running down his face his hands whipping away tears as he saw a smile appearing on your lips as you mad eye contact with him. You hand taking his hand your father gave you away, “I’m glad I’m leaving her in your hands, because you’ll give her the life she deserves.” Your father spoke giving him a nod. You were his new reason of life. His new light. His reminder he’s worthy of love.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, Kurro Tetesuro, TANAKA RYUUNOSKUE, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, Kageyama Tobi, TSUKISHIMA KEI, HINATA SHOUYO, Nishinoya Yu, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, Tendou Satori, OIKAWA TOORU, Akashi Keiji, YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, Daichi Sawamura, MIYA ATSUMU, ARAN OJIRO, +ur fav!☆

[dollysilena]

I LOVE YOU, IT'S RUINING MY LIFE! ⭑

you’re the apple of everyone’s eye. kageyama sees right past it, and you.

PAIRING: pro-athlete!kageyama x celebrity!reader

NOTES: okok hi everyone i’m alive we won’t talk abt how i disappeared and came back AHAHA pls accept these humble crumbs while i try to ease back onto this blog. i’m hoping the vibes are noticeable to readers ?!?! i’m hoping y’all are getting what i’m putting down, if not!! walk w me here!! kageyama sees right past reader’s facade and he’s intrigued bc readers real persona is so much more interesting to him than her squeaky clean celeb appearance for the cameras but reader is like. bro is my no.1 hater bc she’s so blinded w hate and is truly convinced kageyama is praying on her downfall and maybe he is!!LMAO she does not see that kageyama is intrigued by her!! kageyama is just amused by her diff personas and likes to stoke the flames?? yk the vibes??? maybe he is out to get her. maybe he wants to solve the puzzle that is reader. maybe i’m crazy

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

four; let me be your sanctuary // a quiet kind of love

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

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, death, grief, divorce

wc. 12.5k

featured track. 金木犀の夜 by kinokoteikoku // the sanctuary playlist

he saved me in every way that a person can be saved.

there is nothing kageyama tobio could do as your world falls apart and you crumble along with it. nothing but hold the sky from crushing you under its weight with his bare hands and a determination to carve out a safe space for you to fall apart. 

you retreat into yourself, away from the world, leaving behind a ghost of your former self. he holds his breath, for the air feels suffocating without your warmth, your light. he cannot save you, but he can shoulder the weight of the world, shield you from it. 

so he does, taking it upon himself to see that you make it home to japan to see your grandmother before it is too late—handling the calls to your team for your absence, arguing his way through when the coach had the audacity to deny your request, ensuring all the immigration papers are prepared among the most of it. 

booking the seat next to yours and coming with you, because he is worried sick with the state you are in, whether you would be able to make it home safely alone. his coach is not happy about his decision either, but he will deal with it when he gets back.

as long as you make it home. 

he knows just how much she means to you. 

you are quiet, staring out the window at the clouds below you. thirty-five thousand feet in the air and thousands of miles between you and home, you remain silent, even when the air stewardess mistakes you for his significant other. 

there is an emptiness within you, wrapping around you and pulling you into its orbital vacuum, a hollowness he isn’t quite sure how to deal with, whether he should try to chase it away or let it stay, whether you would be alright. 

it is going to be alright, he wants to tell you, i’m here. but he doesn’t, because he isn’t sure if his presence is welcomed if you were fully conscious and capable of going by yourself, if you were not so overcome by grief. 

he knows it well, too well, this feeling that consumes you whole. he recognizes the grief, because he had gone through the same thing a decade ago, when he lost his grandfather and himself to it. 

even now, there are days when he wakes up, the loss suffocating his chest feeling just as fresh as it was yesterday. 

he wants to hold you, tell you that it is going to be fine even if the world falls apart, because he is going to be right there by your side, but that’s his own selfish desire speaking, so he keeps his hands neatly folded over each other in an effort to be respectful of your space.

if space is what you need, then he would be your sanctuary, shielding you from anything the world throws at you. anything, he swears silently.

and then your fingers snake between his own, hesitant and wishful, your hands fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces falling into place. he almost chokes on thin air, head jerking towards you, but you were looking out the window into the dark skies still, lost in your own thoughts with your earbuds in. 

if his finger fell over your pulse, he would detect the spike in your heart rate mirroring his own. 

he releases a jagged breath, wondering if you are seeking comfort in him or the other way around. but his fingers tighten around yours instinctively, a quiet reminder that he’s right here next to you. that he’s not going anywhere.

when your head falls on his shoulder, soft and even breaths falling from your mouth, he sighs in relief, carefully adjusting your posture to ease the weight on your neck. 

there is a crease between your brows even in your sleep as you stir frequently, no doubt anxious and restless. he supposes he should be glad that you are getting any rest at all. 

finally, after a long four days of your worrying silence, the crease eases as you push open the soulless white door of a hospital room, even though your hand stills on the doorknob, wavering on the threshold. 

your hesitation confuses kageyama, but he waits for your lead, allowing you to take your time. and then, “obaasan?” 

you breathe the word into the world with uncertainty and a touch of dread. the tension that lines your tired shoulders from a thirteen hour long haul flight slips away as the elderly woman on the bed looks up from her book, a wide smile gracing her face as she holds her arms out to you. “my darling, y/n-chan!”

he watches you transform before him as your grandmother scatters the worry and anxiety that had you in their stranglehold, running to her as though time unwinded and you are nothing but a lost child finding your way home.

you remember a time when she felt like your whole world, filling in for your absent parents, raising you into the person you are today—where your classmates had their okaasan and their otousan, you had your obaasan who loved you and cared for you like her own, made sure you were warm enough when you walked to school, nursing you back to health when you were sick. 

she was always there for you, believing in you, pushing you to go after your dreams even if it meant leaving her behind. 

she still is your whole world, but you are a grown woman now, so much older than you were at eight when your parents left you with her, a cruel reminder of the passage of time as you become aware of how your frame engulfs her smaller fragile one. 

the two of you exchange a flurry of greetings and fret over each other, you lightly scolding her for worrying you so much when the phone call came as she insists that she is doing fine and the doctors are overreacting. 

what you were not prepared for is the way her eyes lit up as she noticed kageyama silently standing by the doorway, bearing witness to the heartwarming bond between you and your grandmother. 

oh. in your frenzied state, it has conveniently slipped your mind that he is here. and now that the haze has lifted and your mind is clear again, a new panic sets in as the realization truly sinks in. 

kageyama is here. with you. in japan. isn’t the italian league still in season? 

you blank out as you search your memories for how you ended up here, coming up short. your grandmother pulls you to her side of the bed where you sit dumbfounded. her hand, aged with wrinkles and dotted with scars from the years of work, stays firmly within your grasp as she gestures for kageyama to approach.

“and who is this handsome young man you finally decided to bring home, granddaughter?”

you fluster, blurting the first thing that comes to mind, “obaasan, this is tobio.” you give her a look with as much discretion as you could, and you know she caught it, but she presses on slyly.

“tobio…? a rather uncommon family name, if i might say, through my years of living.”

gods. “kageyama is his family name. kageyama tobio.” you correct yourself, reddening at your blunder. 

you ignore the burn of his eyes on you, keeping your gaze steady on your grandmother. “well, it’s good to finally meet you, tobio-chan.” 

finally? what does she mean by finally? you have never mentioned kageyama to her before.

“it’s good to see you are doing well too, oumae-san. i have heard a great deal of warm stories about you from your granddaughter.” he bows his head respectfully to the woman who basically raised you by herself. 

“ah, no need for such formalities, young man. you can call me obaasan like y/n does.” she smiles warmly at kageyama. you tighten her hand around hers, frowning at the assumption she is making of the non-existent relationship between you and kageyama.

but you accidentally look at kageyama, your eyes locking with him and you falter at the silent question in them. you turn back to your grandmother who looks at you expectantly.

“obaasan, are you going around claiming strangers as your grandchildren now? i thought i am your favorite and only grandchild,” you pout, wrapping your arms around her childishly to keep kageyama from stealing her away.

“nonsense, there you go acting like a child again. you are an adult now, act like your age,” she chides teasingly, warmth rising to the surface of her eyes as she pats your hand lovingly.

“i will always be a child around you,” you nestle your head into the crook of her shoulder, savoring her presence, her clarity, the safety of having your grandmother back. you know you are acting like a spoiled child, but you could care less of what kageyama might think of you, knowing this moment of lucidity is rare and fleeting. 

tears well in your eyes as you remember the doctor’s words, notifying you of the nearing end. you wish the tears away, sniffling slightly, as emotions overwhelm you without any warning. 

kageyama saves your breakdown from being noticed by her, lightheartedly chiming in, “i suppose i should stick to addressing you as oumae-san before your granddaughter plots my death.”

“ah, tobio-chan don’t mind her, she is quick to jealousy.” she rubs your back soothingly, “always has been, hm?” her arm comes to a rest around your shoulders, giving you a firm squeeze in reassurance. 

it takes every fiber of your being from crumbling in the familiar safety of her arms, resisting the urge to let your shoulders crumple with the onslaught of her recognition. a memory flashes across your mind of a similar setting as she tends to your injuries—a bloody knee from tripping on the uneven roads of the village, only you were young and her embrace engulfed your tiny frame, the only adult shielding you from the unkind world—a cruel reminder of the passage of time.

it demands every single shred of resilience you built up over the years to stand tall in the way of the persistent waves of emotion crashing against you, swallow the tears in your eyes and the tightness in your throat.

you tighten your arms around the only person who has ever loved you unconditionally, only letting go when a nurse interrupts you for their afternoon rounds, albeit reluctantly.

“why don’t you two go get something to drink in the meantime? you must be tired from your travels.” your grandmother pats your arm reassuringly.

you try to return a smile, but it comes out all tight and tense. “we will be right back, okay?” your assurance sounds more for yourself than anyone else. 

wait for us. it goes unsaid. 

“come on,” kageyama guides you out of the room with a hand on your back, a quiet reminder that you are not alone in this, leading you down multiple hallways and corners. you lose track of them as your thread of control snaps, spiraling into devastation. 

“i can’t do this.” before you know it, you are breaking down in front of a vending machine with a tight fist on the sleeve of his jacket. “gods, gods. i can’t do this, kageyama.” 

the lights are blindingly bright and blurry in your vision. uneven breaths leave your quivering lips as you pant, grabbing at your chest where it hurts. and gods, does it hurt. your ribcage heaves under pressure with each inhale, this thing in it is all you could feel, all you could focus on. 

“hello, is this oumae y/n?” 

“yes, this is her speaking.”

“i’m calling about your grandmother, oumae fumiko. i am afraid i have bad news. she was admitted to the hospital yesterday, and her dementia has progressed much faster than we anticipated. she has already lost too much weight from losing appetite, which is typically a sign of end stage dementia. we are doing all we can for her, but i am afraid all we can do at this point is making her as comfortable as we can.”

the phone call repeats itself in your head again, a record broken on loop, holding you captive, unable to escape its claws that sink deep in your chest, injecting devastation and hopelessness straight into your veins, into the organ that keeps you alive. 

a minute. 

a minute was all it took to tear your world apart. 

you sink to your knees as ugly sob after sob finally rips free from your throat, grieving the inevitable loss of your only constant. multiple streaks of warmth streak down your cheeks, as you cry out, hands finding hold on anything you could to keep you anchored as the world spins around you. 

“w–we were supposed to have m–more time.” you hiccup, leaning into him, your anchor. the thing in your chest—pain, grief, desolation, everything—feels too much to bear, and you wish you could pour it out. but it stays stubbornly, even as the tears and cries are released from you. 

kageyama’s own heart breaks alongside yours, knowing what the loss of your grandmother would take from you. your heart wrenching sobs tug at his heartstrings, reminding him of his own loss that suddenly feels as fresh as yesterday, only it had been more than a decade ago. 

his breath staggers with yours, selfishly collecting your frame into his arms after a lengthy debate with himself. he rubs the back of your head awkwardly as you allow yourself to give in to the flurry of emotions that you had kept at bay since you received the call.  

he internally scolds himself for the satisfaction that settles in with the knowledge that he is the one you sought comfort in. how selfish—but how could he deny you comfort when there is no other shelter for you to take refuge in?

so he allows it, his hand taming the strands of hair on the back of your head, fingers gently running through the knots from lack of care. you bury your face further into his chest, hands bunching up the front of his sweater. 

“i know.” 

kageyama wraps his other arm securely around your shaking shoulders, hoping it gives you some sense of comfort. he slows his breaths down, gradually lengthening each inhale and exhale, waiting for you to match his own before continuing. 

slowly but surely, your sobs grow silent, and your breathing evens out with his coaxing. 

he holds his breath when he feels you shifting in his embrace, suddenly aware of the proximity between you.

he licks his lips nervously, unsure of how you would react as you lift your head to meet his eyes. you blink, visibly vulnerable and he chides himself for his actions again. but was he supposed to let you suffer and not do anything?

“sorry.” the apology leaves his lips roughly before he could think about it, moving to release you from himself, only to stop abruptly as he notices your face scrunching with distress.

“don’t go.” you dip your head, arms snaking around his back, enveloping him in your embrace firmly as you nestle back into his chest. 

his heart jumps, mouth running dry, but he manages to reply, “i’m here as long as you want me to stay.”

“stay forever,” you mumble, the words coming out muffled, failing to reach his ears. 

“hm?” the sound rumbles in his chest, echoing through your body pressed against his, starkly reminding you that everyone has their own path to walk, overlapping for a short moment in the march of time, forever destined to walk the path alone. 

you cannot keep pretending this could be forever. friends no longer encompass the feelings that took on a life on its own for him, threatening to burst into fireworks and alert everyone of just how much you love kageyama tobio. 

and it hits you then, hard. the repressed feelings jumping at the moment of weakness, springing free from the carefully locked box you forcefully shoved them in. 

it punches the air out of you, the enormity of your love for him, rivaled only by your love for your grandmother. leaving you gasping for breath, for air that could not come quick enough.

because one way or another, you are going to lose them both. 

when you return, the nurse coming out of the room informs you that your grandmother has taken her medication and is resting for the night. you note the sympathetic look in her eyes and her thinly pressed lips. 

oh.

kageyama tries to protest, to which you give a firm shake of your head, telling him in a quiet voice that you are tired and that you wish to go home. 

home. is it still home when she is no longer there?

the house stands exactly the same as you remember up to every tile in the slanted rooftop. the two missing tiles in the left corner from accidentally hitting a volleyball into it as a teenager, the mismatched wood colors from a makeover that was never completed. the front door that needs a little coaxing to open from its misaligned frame.

it’s just as you recall. the corners of your lips quirk a little as you turn the doorknob, pushing in and up at the same time and the door creaks open with no resistance. 

the last standing testament of your grandparents’ love, this house that has bore witness to it all. 

you wonder what it is like to have experienced a love so whole, so overflowing that a mere fifteen years shared is enough to sustain her through forty more surrounded by his memories. 

the thought brings a fresh wave of tears that prickle at your eyes and over the brim. because soon that would be you trying to cope in a world without her in it. 

how did you do it, obaasan? you already want to crawl into bed and stay there forever, hide from a world where you could not reach her whenever. 

“you still have her.” kageyama says gently, reminding you that you are not alone. you sniffle, quickly wiping at your cheeks, the corners of your traitorous eyes.

“sorry, i just– my emotions are all over the place.” you take your shoes off, placing them in the open rack in the entrance and moving over so that he could follow suit. “make yourself at home.”

you miss the conflict in his eyes, his struggle on whether to push you to open up or allow you more space. the frustration that wells up within him, hating that you don’t trust him enough to lean on him when you so clearly needed someone earlier, that you have shut yourself off again. 

unreachable. untouchable. 

you lead him past the living room, into the kitchen, softly pointing out the cabinets for cups, utensils, snacks, tea, anything he might need before heading up the stairs. the eighth step on the way up groans underneath your weight like it always does, and you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

kageyama has an unreadable expression as you show him to the spare bedroom that your parents use when they deigned to show up, the number of times of which you could count on all ten of your fingers and toes. 

his lips part, a quiet storm brewing inside his mind as he struggles to find the right words. 

“do you need anything else?” you ask. 

he hates this. he hates the feeling of helplessness as you struggle alone to stay afloat and all he is allowed to do is watch you edge closer to the precipice of despair and wait for you to reach out. 

“you are not alone in this, i am here. if you need anything,” he swallows, “anything at all. just remember i am here.” 

“it’s fine, i am used to it.”  

“are you? i have gone down this road before. keeping everything bottled up,” he shakes his head, “there is only darkness and pain waiting for you at the end of it.”

“i have made my peace with it a long time ago, but facing it now, this goodbye seems more permanent than i ever imagined.” 

“it gets easier, i promise.”

you turn away so that he does not see the shimmer in your eyes. “that is also what i am afraid of.”

you send a silent prayer to the gods the next day when you find her awake and lucid. 

and the next day. 

and the next. 

they are short, fleeting moments. sometimes minutes, sometimes up to a few hours. each time she remembers you, you breathe a sigh of relief. each time she forgets, kageyama is there to catch it first. 

in some way, he became your safety, your shield. 

your grandmother is enjoying herself recounting your childhood stories to kageyama, who listens raptly, nodding along to each sentence. you protest weakly, correcting her dramatisations of the mischief you were up to. 

“she is always so full of energy, running around the fields, chasing after grasshoppers in the grass, scaring away the birds that came to our home. one time, she climbed up the big tree in the backyard to chase after a cat that conveniently left you stuck up there crying and i ended up having to ask our neighbor to rescue her.”

“obaasan, but i did catch the cat.”

“who scratched you on your nose, and hopped off the tree gracefully, did you forget? i was watching it all from the kitchen window, child.” she taps your nose teasingly.

“and your teacher, she asked you to try out for volleyball because of that restlessness and that mind of yours, hoping you would get into less trouble, and what did you manage to do? break our roof.”

“it was two tiles, obaasan! you are overexaggerating everything.” you pout at her. 

the two of them exchange a glance and burst out laughing at you. oh, so that is how it is. 

and despite the imminent end that hangs over your head, you smile. 

your apprehension begins to fade as the days pass with laughter and happiness next to the two people you loved most. the selfish hope that the end will be painless for both you and her begins to grow. that you would not have to live through the pain of her forgetting you again. 

it is easy to pretend like this could be forever. 

but forever falls apart. it always does.

you grew complacent, forgetting how unpredictable dementia is. it hits you when you least expect it, reminding you of your own mortality as helplessness floods your veins, freezes you in place, as you stare at the blank face of the woman who raised you.

the lines of worry that formed over the years, the smile lines that run along the sides of her nose to her mouth, the curve of her nose that you inherited—everything was familiar as your mind remembers. 

everything but the lack of recognition in her eyes as she stared back at you. 

your play pretend world comes crumbling down around you. there it is. the dementia that takes her away from you.

and you had stayed up all night makes her favorite stew in hopes that she would eat more than a few bites.

your fragile heart plummets as kageyama steps up from behind you, hand sliding into yours to take the soup flask from your shaking hand. oh, you had not even noticed that you had started to shake. 

your eyes are still pinned to her, frozen in place, watching as her eyes flick over to kageyama, and then—recognition dawns on her, a wide smile appearing on her face as if she is the sun incarnate.

“hatsu?”

a smile reserved for the warmth that was taken away from her too soon, too young. a smile reserved for oumae hatsu, the first and only love of her long life. 

kageyama startles, looking to you for help, worry evident in his dark eyes as they roam over your tightly clenched fists. 

“she thinks you are my grandfather who passed away when my father was in junior high.” you press your lips into a thin line, hurt fresh on your mind that she does not remember you. the last thing you want to do is push him to do something he is uncomfortable with, but his eyes soften, understanding shining through them. 

it makes you swallow hard. this side of him that somehow no one else sees is the reason you gave over your heart unconsciously, the reason your heart throbs in pain alongside the hurt you feel from your grandmother. 

if only he knew…

“go ahead, if you want to talk to her.” you glance at the flask of stew, a sad smile ghosting over your lips. “i will head home first.”

“you don’t want to stay?” he catches your wrist as you turn to leave.

“no.” you glance back at her, at the frown marring her face. “no, it hurts us both more if i stay.”

kageyama hesitates, wondering if he should return with you. but your grandmother looks at him expectantly, and you give him a small reassuring shove towards her before disappearing from the room. 

all right. 

he sets the thermos on the overbed table, unscrewing the cap and handing over a spoon to the elderly woman smiling warmly at him. “here, y/n made your favorite stew.”

she scrunches her nose in confusion at the name but takes the utensil regardless, sniffing at the smell of the food before tasting it. 

“it tastes just like how you used to make it.” she looks at him, spooning another mouthful of stew into her mouth after lightly blowing on it. he takes a seat at the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed, giving her a small smile, allowing the silence to stretch as she eats a good amount of the food.

at least your efforts did not go to waste. his heart pains for you, thinking of how hurt you must have felt when she did not remember you. he knows for a fact that if it was him and his grandfather he would have broken down on the spot. 

how much have you had to go through by yourself all this time?

“do you remember this time of the year?” she is looking out the window at the budding cherry blossoms, set to bloom early this year compared to past years. “it should be right around the time you asked me to marry you in a few weeks.”

a smile blooms across her aged face at the memory, and kageyama could see the features you inherited from her, the same slanted nose and the almond shaped eyes that sparkles with happiness. 

“we would get married around summer, the season you were named after. aptly, because you are the only person who managed to melt through the ice i wrapped around myself. we would have our perfect baby son just a year later.”

kageyama wants to interrupt her, say that he is not who she thinks he is, but he could not bear to cut her happy memory short.

she laughs at the memory. “he is the cutest baby i have ever seen in my life. do you remember how soft and caring he was about us as a kid? always worrying past his age for our wellbeing. sometimes i was not sure if we were his parents or the other way around.”

“sometimes i would wonder if we were raising him right, if it was our fault that he became the person he is today because we did not give him enough safety as a child,” she takes his hand in hers, voice thick with emotion. “you promised me we would grow old and haggard together, but the gods took you from me too soon. i tried so hard in the days after to reach out to him, but i failed him as his mother and his only remaining parent. i am sorry, i promised you i would keep our family safe after you left, but i failed. i am lost without you.”

a tear rolls down her cheek as she sniffles. “there was so many times i wanted to give up, but it would all the worth it because i get to be with you soon.”

his hand tightens around hers, as he gives her a tight smile, a small voice at the back of his head telling him that now is the time to free her from being trapped in a past filled with pain.

but she suddenly withdraws her hand, features shifting into a distrustful frown. “who are you?” 

not allowing him a moment of explanation, she begins to shout for the nurse, getting upset over his presence in her room. he quickly follows her wishes, stepping out as a nurse comes rushing in to check on her. 

he did not even realize how high his heart rate rocketed over the last minute of whiplash, trying to catch a breath with his head in his hands on the bench right outside the room, a question nagging at the back of his mind.

how long have you had to go through by yourself?

kageyama finds you at your grandmother’s home as promised, staring absently at the cup of tea in your hands, sitting cross legged under the kotatsu. he suspects that the cup has long since turned cold, but he does not bring it up. 

“how are you feeling?” 

“i am fine.” your reply comes a few moments later, as though you took a while to register that he is talking to you, to remember to respond. 

clearly not fine.

“come on, oumae. talk to me.” 

“i said i am fine.” your face scrunches as you take a sip of the tea, setting it back down on the table and pushing it away from yourself. clearly cold.

“don’t shut me out.” he knows he promised you time and space to figure it out on your own, but worry gnaws at his mind persistently, and the truth is he is afraid that he would be too late. 

“why did you come? was it pity?”

“no, how could you think– no. i came because you were hurting, and i wanted to be here for you.” his heart is lodged in his throat, and he wishes he could hand it to you on both hands on the slightest chance that he could take on your pain for you. 

“you shouldn’t have.” the immovable mask slips back in place on your face. “i need to learn to live by myself again. i can’t rely on you forever.”

he feels an urge to leap across the table and shake the truth out of you. it is the grief speaking, molding your helplessness into anger, into doable actions. he would let you draw blood with your knives, words sharpened with the intention to cut him, if he had not glimpsed the momentary pain flashing across your face. 

“why? that has never been a problem before, even before– is it because of what i said in the interview?” 

“yes.” you say, but the split second of hesitation gives you away. “we are just friends, and i cannot keep counting on you to be around forever. so yes, i need to remember how to do this alone. i can’t keep running to you whenever i have a problem.”

“that’s not–” he begins, confusion swarming his mind from your explanation.

“i cannot keep losing people i care about, tobio. there is only so much of me that i can lose until i am gone.” you cut him off, stumbling to your feet, trying to shake off the numbness that collected in your limbs. 

and then you are gone. 

the dots do not connect, but… should he respect your wishes and go?

he exhales, rubbing his hand over his face and pushing his hair back from sticking to his forehead, staring out at the backyard where the first of the cherry blossoms have bloomed on the giant tree overlooking the house. 

kageyama pretends not to notice your swollen eyes the next day when he steps into the kitchen. he himself is not any better off with the heavy circles under his eyes from tossing and turning all night. 

something about your last conversation is bothering him, and it is all he can think of when he closes his eyes and try to sleep. but he does not mention it and neither do you. 

there is a strange distance that separates him from you—awkward but not entirely unpleasant. an odd harmony that feels both on and off, like a light switch being forced to balance between the two.  

although, the question itches at his lips. do you want him to go? he lets it weigh heavy on his chest because he is a coward who is afraid to know your answer. 

to no surprise, your grandmother picks it up, waving him over for questioning when you step out to speak to the doctors. 

“how is she holding up?” she must have seen the hesitance in his eyes, continuing, “i forgot again, didn’t i? and she was here to witness it again that time.”

she knows? “i don’t know, but…” he trails off, unsure of what to tell her. she gestures for him to go on. “not too well, i think.”

“she has gone through too much. maybe i didn’t do that good of a job in raising her.” 

he scrunches his nose with disbelief. “you did great, trust me. she is like nothing short of the greatest person i know. she is stubborn but forgiving and kind, passionate to a fault but it’s one of the things i love about her. she does not like to burden others with her own problems, even though she is always thinking about what they might feel or need. sometimes i wish she would–” 

he stops short as he catches the knowing look on her face. fuck. 

“well, did you tell her all of that and more? i am guessing you didn’t because you would be together by now if you did.” 

“she doesn't feel the same way, obaasan. who am i to force it?” he ignores the pang of hurt that echoes in his chest as he recalls your words from last night.

“kuroo tetsuro never saw past her brilliance that captivated everyone. never once did he bother to look past the warmth she radiates to the people around her, or the cheeriness that she wore for so long it became natural. the sun burns only as long as there is something left to burn.” her eyes are hard now, glittering like gemstones, as she holds him to an unspoken scale.

“but you, you have always seen it, haven’t you? you are not blinded by her brightness like the others are. you love her the way my hatsu loved me, like she is the sun and the air, and life itself. so let me ask again, tobio-chan, have you told her?”

“i–” he get interrupted by her clearing her throat, looking in the same direction as her only to find you walking back in, wearing exhaustion and sorrow like a second skin. 

heartbreaking but still, hauntingly beautiful. tragically poetic. 

he feels like an ass for not being able to tear his eyes from you in a time like this, when you are surrounded by the promise of loss and grief. 

somehow you manage to pull together a smile for your grandmother, and there. he sees it, the last of the fuel burning up behind your eyes. 

your lips move at a rapid pace, though he is too deep in his thoughts to hear the conversation between the two of you. her words echo in his mind—the sun burns only as long as there is something left to burn. 

he thinks about her question and your admission that he should not have come. no, he has not told you, but it does not matter. not when you drew that line so firmly defining where you ended and where he began. even if the words don’t quite fall into place when played over and over.

i cannot keep counting on you to be around forever. why not? he had wanted to ask. why not? he would be there whenever you call for him, in any way you would take him, even if it is just friends.

have you told her? he did, he wanted to scream. he did, and it did not matter. 

unless— and suddenly everything clicks in place. unless you had not heard his not-so-secret confession on national television. but still, he must be missing something, something that triggered the change of distance between you?

“tobio-chan,” your grandmother calls, noting the way he immediately looked for you. “she left already. i told her i have something to talk to you privately about.”

“do you think i stand a chance? i–if i confessed to her, that is. not right now, of course, maybe after…” he trails off, gesturing at nothing in particular.

“stand a chance? no.” he flinches as her words send his precarious hope plummeting over the self-imposed cliff. “have a chance? yes. she looks at you the way i look at my husband. and don’t wait on my account because who knows? you might be the reason she survives my death.”

“you think she might not recover when you–” he bites his tongue, finding it disrespectful to discuss her own death to her face, even if she knows it is coming.

“it’s alright, you don’t have to dance around it. i know death is coming for me. my hatsu has been visiting me more and more in my dreams, sometimes even when i am awake. but yes, us oumae’s love hard, and we have a hard time letting go. always has been, always will be.” 

the knowledge bears down on him. he thought he understood how important your grandmother is to you, but it was tainted by his own experience of losing his grandfather. it is all of that, but different, more.

learning about your past makes him uneasy because it feels wrong that you had to go through so much as a child. because as cold as his parents were, he had his grandfather and his sister. but listening to your grandmother recount what you were forced to live through—a messy divorce and being sent away because of a stepmother who disliked you, with your grandmother as your only support.

he didn’t know his heart could break further for you, but it does.

her last words accompany him on the quiet drive back to the farmhouse.

“when she told me she was marrying kuroo, i had hoped that he would prove me wrong, that he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. then the call about the divorce came, and i was angry at the gods for being so careless with her heart. but the day you walked into this room, i knew. my prayers were finally being answered.”

his gaze roams to you from time to time. there is something lodged in his throat, he thinks, the vastness of his emotions, or the thought of laying it bare before you makes him want to jump out of the moving car. 

he struggles to find the words to describe it, any way to start a conversation like this, and fails terribly. all the progress he made in the decade decides to leave him, leaving him a fresh first year too caught up with his own demons to convey the thoughts running through his mind. 

you disappear up the stairs before he could even get a word out. fuck. always too late.

it is not until later that night that kageyama finds his opening as he is looking for a midnight snack in the dark kitchen. he catches movement outside the house out of the corner of his eye, chalking it up to the trees swaying in the wind. 

he shakes his head. but—there. a small movement illuminated by the soft moonlight catches his eye again. his heart picks up pace as he pads closer to the window that overlooks the backyard, suddenly finding it rushing up his throat as he realizes what or more specifically, who it is.

there you are, all huddled up in a chair with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. 

he licks his lips, wetting his dry mouth, as he finds his heart rate accelerating for an entirely different reason. 

there is no better time than the present. a voice reminds him, though he could not put a face to the voice.

he knows that, and yet he lingers by the back door, fingers hovering over the switch for the lights in the backyard. an unknown source of courage surges through him, nudging him onwards. 

kageyama slips out the door, footsteps swallowed up by the wind rushing over and around him. 

the thundering in his heart never pauses, even as he takes in your tired features carved in with sorrow. your cheeks are gaunt although it has barely been a week. he realizes that it is not only his own desire and your grandmother’s encouragement leading through what he is about to say, but also fear that you would not be able to find your own way back. 

he would light the way home for you, if you allowed him to. 

“do you remember what you said to me on the day we first met?” he curls up in the chair next to you, following your line of sight to the moon hanging low in the sky. 

“wha–” you stop yourself short as you decide to go along with it, not knowing where this is leading. curiosity prickles at the back of your mind, prompting you to search through your memories. “i don’t know. i think i said something embarrassing and fangirled too much that i blocked it from my memory.”

“really? i didn’t peg you for a fan.” he jokes. 

“well i didn’t peg you for a joker either, but here we are.” you shoot him a deadpan look. “what kind of embarrassing things were they?”

“nothing embarrassing. though you did call my serves godly.” he smiles lightly while meeting your eyes. 

your eyes fly wide open, mouth falling open in indignation. “i did not. no way in hell.”

“oh, but you did. you took me by surprise with the sincerity behind your words, especially coming from the best setter in the v-league.”

“oh gods. you are being serious. i did really say that, didn’t i? oh.” you bury your face in your hands, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks.

the light mood sours as soon as your mind drifts off from the conversation, turning your expression somber. “i know you are trying to cheer me up, but you don’t have to.”

“i’m not– i’m not here out of pity or sense of duty. i’m here because i am selfish. because i could not bear to see the woman i love alone in her grief, even though you tried to put distance between us. because you are my heart and i cannot live without it.”

“what?” your head whips towards him, five different thoughts flying through your mind in an instant. he licks his lips in nervousness, wishing he could hear your thoughts in that moment. “but– you said– in that interview, you said we are just friends.”

in the interview — he said what? he could only assume that it’s the same interview that he is thinking of, though he draws a blank on those words leaving his lips. 

“you said we are just friends in that post-game interview against milano. that pretty interviewer was all over you too, did you forget?”

did he say—oh. he remembers the question now. he did say that, but it came from a place of respect for you, not wanting to assume things by himself.

“i have never seen you smile at anyone the way you smiled at her. i don’t understand. how could it be me that you–” you stop abruptly, as though you could not say the word love. 

the urge to throw someone (mostly hinata) flashes through his brain, and this time it’s directed at you. he crosses his arms, frowning at you, the absurdity of your misled beliefs forcing a laugh of disbelief from him. 

“where do you want me to start? i love that you are intelligent and witty and don’t hesitate to put me in my place if i say something stupid.”

“are you a masochist?” you interrupt. 

he frowns harder at you before continuing, “i love that you are kind and strong-willed–”

“you mean stubborn.” you mutter. 

“would you please let me finish?” he sighs exasperatedly, pointer finger massaging the crease between his brows. you relent, settling back in your seat while pouting. “and you look so gods-damned cute when you do that, it takes all my willpower to not kiss you. if you asked me to fetch the moon, i would do it in a heartbeat.”

he could go on forever if he wanted to, though words would fail to accurately capture the love that blooms far and wide within him. that is, if he could even begin to find the words that have collectively decided to leave him. 

kageyama tobio has never been good with words anyway so he settles for something simple as he turns his body to face you fully. 

“it has always been you. from the first time i watched you play, from the first day we met, even when you were still with him, it has always been you for me. even with a whole continent between us, when i thought i should let you go, it has always been you.” 

he searches your eyes for any hints of emotion, wishing to run his hand over yours and soothe your trembling fingers, but he keeps it to himself instead of intruding in your space. “i’m sorry for dumping this on you at such a time, but obaasan–”

“but the interviewer, you smiled at her like– i don’t know–”

“like she was my sun?” you nod. he could not help himself then, as he reaches over and flicks your forehead lightly. “she asked me about you. i was thinking about you, my sun.”

“i am not– you could have chosen someone else. anyone else.” your nails are carving crescents into your flesh now with how tight you are digging into your forearm. “someone who is stable, not a divorcee. someone who knows what family feels like, who could give that to you. someone who can give you everything they have. someone whole.”

oh. 

he feels your insecurity cutting into him like shards of glass, not only because he was hoping to hear a different answer—he had expected you to reject him—but also because this is the first thing that comes to your mind. 

that you are worried over what you can give him. what he deserves.

what about you?

“i am not asking for anything in return. i only wanted you to know that someone else in this world loves you besides your obaasan.”

“that’s stupid. everyone expects something in return. love is always conditional.”

“not mine.”

“then you are stupid for giving it so freely.” the look in your eyes hardens as you stare back at him unflinchingly, unwilling to back down. 

“you–” he bites back the ugly retorts that rise in himself reflexively as his patience finally gives under your resolve. he grits his teeth, spitting out the words flatly, “well for the record, i think it’s stupid too.”

kageyama regrets it almost instantaneously as hurt flashes through your eyes so quickly he thinks he imagined it. 

but it is not until he slides down against the shut door of the guest room that he realizes he never got an answer from you. though he thinks he has a good idea of what it is. 

you almost regret the hurtful words you flung at kageyama last night. 

if you are being honest, you didn’t quite understand what you are trying to achieve with that either, going to war with yourself over whether you should accept or reject it. his love. as if it is yours to decide what to do with.

you had done neither, pushing him away by insulting the very love he offered to you on both hands, no better than the people you compared him to. 

for the record, i think it’s stupid too. 

it hurts to breathe when you hear his voice saying those words, worse than stepping on shards of broken glass—his heart that you broke so carelessly, but you deserve it. the pain and the disappointment when, not if, he sees you for who you truly are and falls out of love. 

it is bound to happen, and it’s better for both of you that it happens sooner rather than later. 

the sooner he moves on from you the better, you know that. 

you expected the pain that followed, but the flare of hope in the midst of the disbelief, that had been real too. the brief glimmer of a promised heaven only serves to drive the wedge deeper in your bleeding heart in your fall from grace. 

he probably thinks the worst of you now. you would not be surprised if he decides to take it all back. a logical person would.

and kageyama tobio is nothing if not logical. 

still, reality pierces through the useless wisps of spider silk you have carefully woven around yourself over the years to hide away from the world. his absence at breakfast slices through the layers easily, leaving you alone to ignore the pang of hurt that springs up in your chest whenever your eyes wander to the empty seat in front of you. 

even your grandmother has decided to side with him after taking one look between the two of you, chastising you for your stubbornness the moment kageyama is out of earshot. 

of course she had a hand in it. you sigh, scooting closer to her bed as you peel an apple while she continues to scold you with disappointment. 

“obaasan, we accept the love we think we deserve.” you try to explain your side. “kageyama, he’s not like me. he’s the north star in the night sky, burning bright and unbridled. i won’t taint it.”

“are you blind? you are perfect for each other. and you, you deserve everything, the whole world at your feet, so don’t even go about thinking of rejecting him because you think you don’t deserve him.” she trains her eyes on you, staring you down. “if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

“obaasan, there is nothing i will not do for you, except this. i can’t, i am sorry.” 

“you are stubborn, like your father.” she huffs, evidently upset about your refusal to budge on the matter. “go, i don’t want to see you until you make the right choice.”

“obaasan–” you protest weakly.

“go.” you turn your face away to hide the brimming tears, the sting of betrayal that she chose him over you when she is the one who was supposed to stand by your side when everyone is against you.

you stumble into a wide-eyed kageyama on your way out. he must have heard some parts of your conversation. you give yourself the time to think too much into it before you are pushing yourself away from him and leaving.

you hear his voice projecting from the open backyard before you see his figure approaching the garden by the side of the house. 

“hey, you doing alright?” his hands are in his pockets, shoulders relaxed as though what happened the other night is long behind him. 

that’s good, you remind yourself. 

you shrug in response, not knowing what to say when you don’t know how to feel about it yourself. “i don’t know.” 

the hand trowel hits the hard soil again as you pour your energy into loosening the garden bed instead of sorting through your feelings. useless things, bringing only turmoil and confusion. 

stab, push, pull. repeat. you lose yourself in the rhythm before you remember to speak up. “she calls me stubborn, but isn’t she the same? it’s been a few days and she still refuses to see me. and for what? it’s like, does she not realize the line between the dead and the living that is about to separate us?”

“all she cares about is tobio-chan this, tobio-chan that. who is her real grandchild?” you complain, pointing the trowel at him in an accusatory manner and narrowing your eyes at him. “traitor.”

you ignore the pounding of your heart, the dull throb that runs through it at his proximity, at the feigned normalcy between you. 

“you’re upset because you know she is right.” your jaw falls open at his straightforwardness. oh, so we are not dancing around it anymore. “we accept the love we think we deserve, i think that is what you said to her.”

“eavesdropping is dishonorable.” you hiss back at him. why does it feel like the tables have turned? 

“why are you running away?”

“i am not running away from anything. i didn’t accept your confession, or whatever that was.”

“but you didn’t reject it either,” he raises an eyebrow at you, arms crossed over his broad chest. the innocent action sends your poor heart into a gallop, temporarily forgetting the pain that has been inflicted upon it by yourself. “you are easy to read when you are jealous, did you know that? the expression on you when you complained about your grandmother liking me too much, it is the same one you had when you were asking me about the interviewer.”

he leans in and steals the trowel from you, continuing your forgotten task, satisfaction written all over his face for leaving you speechless. 

“you are reading too much into it.” you breathe once you recover your bearings. “give that back.” you make a grab for the tool in his hands.

“tell me i am wrong then. that everything i have seen and heard that seems to point to the same answer is wrong.” he circles your wrist with his left hand, tugging at you gently. “tell me.”

you blink at the burning touch setting your skin on fire, the overstrained heart stumbling and stuttering in your ribcage. “you said you didn’t need anything from me.”

“i did. but that and this are two completely different things. i am fighting alone here, but if there is even a shred of you that wants us, i will keep fighting for you. so tell me to leave you, y/n. tell me to pack my bags and go back to italy. tell me to go and i will.” 

leave. the simple one-syllable word refuses to vibrate in your vocal cords no matter how hard you try. your mouth is open, ready to push the sound through, but nothing comes out. there is warmness on your cheek—tears, you realize.

“if you want us, then why are you fighting so hard against it?” his voice almost sounds pleading.

we accept the love we think we deserve. and you are kageyama tobio. 

and then that burning touch is on your face, wiping your tears away so tenderly it almost convinces you that you are worth it all. 

“then i will make sure you know you deserve the universe.”

realization dawns on you as you stare after his retreating figure—you had said those words out loud. your body releases the shuddering breath you didn’t know you were holding, betraying your warring inner thoughts. 

he is still fighting for you. despite your every effort to chase him away. 

kageyama tobio must be your blessing from the gods, considering he managed to change your stubborn grandmother’s mind. perhaps your greatest blessing because it was only through his peacemaking that you were able to spend her final days with her. 

you let out a huff at the thought that she would be stubborn enough to keep you away even on her deathbed. 

it was all blurry in your memory, but it had been like any other day, or at least you think so. everyone was prepared for the day to come, the doctor and the nurses, kageyama, you. she continued to grow weaker, getting more tired, mistaking people for your grandfather, and with it she slipped deeper into the holds of dementia, forgetting.

you had braved through it, the days when she would not remember you, ignoring your instinct to run away and protect yourself from getting hurt, knowing you would never get a chance to see her much longer. 

but on that final day, she was sitting in the chair overlooking the gardens, turning to look at you when you entered as if she had been expecting you—waiting to say goodbye to you. 

not long after that she was gone. and all you can remember is the shock that sank into your skin, disbelief as her warm calloused hands turned cold. hands prying you away from her and with it, the part of you that she once commanded space in. 

you remember the emptiness that came creeping in with the realization that she is truly gone, pushing out the emotions that you should be feeling, numbing you to the pain that should have set in. 

her departure left a hole within you where your feelings used to reside, leaving behind someone you don’t recognize, as if it stole away your will to live. 

kageyama had expected screams and cries, not this. a human shell who resembles you, alive and breathing, eating and drinking whatever he pushes your way, but nothing behind those eyes that once glowed with life as though a living star breathed through them. 

nothing but a blank stare and a faraway look, as though your body may be there, but your mind has long since left. he had not heard your voice in days, not a single word or noise leaving your lips. you continued to remain in that statelessness through the wake where strangers showed up to offer their condolences. 

your parents are absent, not a single call, even with the funeral service happening today. 

you are not surprised—how often have you really seen them growing up? you could probably count it all on ten fingers. 

still, they are nowhere to be found as the guests complete their round in placing the flowers in the casket. you stare at the pure white of the kimono on your grandmother. the hole in your chest seems to grow by the minute, consuming everything in its path. 

not when the coffin is nailed shut, your grandmother’s serene face disappearing beneath the wood for one final time. not when the funeral procession leaves to the crematorium. 

not even when the casket is slid into the cremation chamber, the door sliding shut between you for the final time, a permanent separation between the living and the dead. 

something in you cracks at the sight, pinning you in the place of your last farewell. this is as far as you could accompany her. 

so this is the way your world ends, not with a bang but a whimper. 

the fracture grows as the time for kotsuage approaches and you are returned to the harsh reality of a world that exists without her, a world that keeps spinning even if yours had stopped, remains of it laid bare before you, and sitting next to it is an urn and two pairs of chopsticks. 

all that is left of your memories and your love, the only evidence left that they ever existed are the white bones mixed in ashes on the sterile metal tray. 

you think you might throw up. 

a commotion behind breaks the narrowing of your vision, as your ears pick up the quiet shuffle of kageyama’s feet to investigate the noise. 

something rushes at you, hot and pressing, rushes up your neck and your ears, your cheeks as their voices become discernible. it spreads across your chest, enveloping you in its heat, squeezing your hands into trembling fists at your sides as recognition walks in. 

anger, hot white anger erupts in your vision at the sight of your father and his wife. it engulfs you in its flame, pressure rising against the nothingness in your chest, turning your breathing ragged. 

it builds and builds and you explode with it, instead of succumbing and crumpling under the pressure. 

“what are you doing here?” your voice croaks, raspy with disuse. they had not bothered to show up, not when you needed them, not when she needed them, not even to put up a show at her funeral and play the role of a good son and daughter-in-law. 

“not even a hello or how are you? your grandmother was just cremated and you have already forgotten the manners she taught you?” your father shakes his head with disapproval dripping from his voice, dressed in a clean cut suit. 

you might have mistaken it for funeral attire if not for the shiny watch slapped on his wrist. funerals are meant to grieve the deceased, not show off your wealth. 

you hate this. him. how dare they show up now and insult her when the funeral rituals are not even complete, her bones not even cold? how is it that he is alive and she is not?

“get out. you are not welcome here.” you hate the blurriness in your vision, fighting to keep your voice level, holding onto your anger with a tight leash before it consumes you whole, before the tears that follow it arrive. 

“i have every right to be here as her son. i will not disrespect the traditions of our ancestors simply because you think you are grown up enough to make your own decisions.” he says it so matter-of-factly that you wish he could have taken her place instead.

“get out of here.” you breathe, nose flaring as he takes another step closer, reaching for the special chopsticks reserved for the ritual. 

“did you forget? kotsuage is a ritual that requires two relatives of the deceased. no matter how much you despise me, i am still her closest living relative.” 

not when you have not bothered to visit her in years, you want to scream. not when you have not bothered to see her even one last time. you knew she wanted to see him for the last time even if she did not say it aloud—and he had not come. 

you hate the way you shrivel under the stare he pins on you, making you feel small and dumb and five again, being yelled at for mistakes that are not yours. you will for the words to come, for your vocal cords to make the sounds, but it is kageyama who speaks up when your own voice fails you. 

“you are right, kotsuage is a ritual that requires two close relatives of the deceased,” your heart plummets at his words, deathly still as he glances at you, “but it does not dictate that they have to be blood relatives of the deceased. sometimes flesh and blood is no different than strangers, and from what i heard from obaasan, that would be the case here.”

you tense, instinctively taking a step in front of kageyama as your father turns his attention to him. your hand finds kageyama’s arm, giving him a light squeeze in gratitude.

“remind me, who are you and why are you meddling in my family affairs?” he narrows his eyes on kageyama with an unpleasant glint. you brace yourself for the insults that are sure to follow, but what comes is worse than you could have imagined. “is this what you have been up to in italy, daughter? is this why tetsuro divorced you? because he caught you cheating? i always knew he was too good for you. at least have the decency to keep him away from staining the funeral.”

his words cut deep into the heart of the eight year old girl he left at his mother’s door—the girl who still waited for her father to return and keep his promise that she will be his little angel, the same girl who fell asleep waiting by the door when he bails on their plans. the girl who was left behind because she did not fit into the new and perfect family of his. 

somewhere deep within you, her heart shutters for a final time, but you are not her anymore. you have not been your father’s daughter for a while now. 

you hold onto kageyama firmly as his arm flexes in response to your father’s outrageous insults, feeling your own rage reflected in him. he relaxes slightly as your hand wraps around his tightly clenched fist, fingers winding between his own and closing the distance.

behind you, kageyama swallows stiffly, barely able to see past his rage at your father’s implication that kuroo deserved better than you, his own daughter. he might have tackled the older man with grey streaks in his hair, if not for your hand laced tightly with his. 

i got it, you seem to say. 

he believes it—believes in you. you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it. he busies himself with the different ways he could handle the fallout with your father, shield you from his anger. 

he does not expect the words that come next. 

“this is kageyama tobio. he’s only the best setter the world has ever seen, and a better man than you could ever be, or even dream of. he is the one who sat by obaasan’s bed, peeled fruits for her, fed her when her own strength failed her, kept her company when she forgets about me and i cannot bear to be there. right until the end, even though he was not related to her in any way.”

you wipe the stray tear that slides down your cheek, the final tears from the five year old who needed her father, as you turn to look at kageyama.

“he saved me, again, and again, and again, asking for nothing in return. so if you cared to ask anyone, kageyama is a part of this family more than you ever were.” you run your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling gratefully at him. “he will carry out the kotsuage with me. so please feel free to leave, or watch quietly by the side, i don’t care either way.” 

your father seethes at your words, ready to rain hell upon you, but kageyama silences him with a glare, “i would listen to your daughter, if i were you. like you said, we should not be disrespecting the traditions of our ancestors by making a scene at a time of mourning.”

“you would stand there and allow him to speak to your father like this?” he turns to you, disappointment on his aged face. you always remembered him to be in his prime, but perhaps that only serves to show how long it has been since you saw him last.

the young girl who wished for her father fades away into the shadows, finally coming to an understanding that she will never be loved by him the way he used to ever again. it feels like the weight of a boulder is lifted off your shoulders when you hold his stare and say, “i have not had a father for years.”

kotsuage brings back somber memories from his early teenage years, of his absent parents, of him and his sister painstakingly transferring each bone that used to be part of his grandfather into the ceramic urn. 

if he had to describe the hollowness he felt that day, you would be a close description of it. 

your father had left in a fury, slamming the doors behind them, and silence fell in the time since then. silence that forces you to face the new reality, punctuated with the sound of chopsticks picking up each individual bone starting from the feet all the way up to the head. 

with each bone carefully lowered into the urn by both of you at the same time, pieces of you that awakened momentarily during the confrontation with your father return to dormancy. 

“thank you, i’m sorry for asking this of you.” you had told him softly as your shoulders drooped with exhaustion, dropping your bravado as soon as your father was out of sight. 

he had wanted to wipe away the single line of tear that streaked down your left cheek, but you looked so fragile that he was afraid his touch might be the final straw connecting the hairline fractures that accumulated over the weeks, shattering you into pieces too small to piece back together.

you tried so hard to hold it together, not wanting him to see beneath the facade that you are just fine and grieving that he allowed it, pretended to not notice your nails digging into the flesh of your palm, or the shiny film of tears that you will away every now and then.

that was three days ago. three whole days since he had seen you eat, watching you wither away before his eyes as you fought the grief shrouding you. he had stood by his promise and gave you time and space to face the grief, but he could not bear to watch as you keep running. 

so enough is enough. he would not stand by and watch you lose yourself any longer. 

deciding that is easy. the hard part is choosing when and how to approach it, especially since you have been keeping your interactions to a minimum. 

kageyama feels guilty for springing this on you, of course he does, but he made a promise to your grandmother that he would help you find your way home when you are lost, and he intends on keeping it. 

“hey,” you flinch at the sound of his voice breaking you out of your empty gaze staring out the backyard. his eyes track your movements, zeroing on the way your fingers fiddle with the glass in your hands. “you holding up alright?”

you give him a half smile, hoping that it is enough to pacify his worries, nodding your confirmation. 

kageyama had given you a wide berth since… since then, and so you expected him to do the same today, but he takes a step towards you, and another, and another until he comes to a stop next to you at the kitchen sink, entering your bubble separating you from the world.

he half expected you to step away, to leave, but you don’t. it surprises you as well, finding his presence within your imaginary sphere of safety to be soothing, instead of suffocating, like the past few days had been. 

you tried to not think about the things you had said to your father about kageyama, about what it meant for the two of you. it had been easy to ignore them, memories of the day reminding you of—

you shake the thoughts away like you did for the past few days. it was not a revelation that you wanted him to stay and fight for you despite you pushing him away. a selfish desire you harbored for him to prove that he would not leave at the first sign of inconvenience. but that is selfish and wrong of you to wish for, and you wanted him to turn away and never look back. 

you aren’t quite sure which side you stand on anymore, and it had not been a priority as you were preoccupied with walking away from the truth that keeps tapping you in the shoulder. it sunk its claw in you, forcing you to look it in the eyes, but it had been too horrifying that you had ignored it ever since. 

if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it cannot be true, right?

he probably wanted to know where you stand, you don’t blame him at all. you would too, if you were him.

what you don’t expect, are the words that follow—“it’s okay to mourn.”

mourn. the word shudders through you, an unwelcome weight that settles between the spaces of your ribcage, heavy yet unable to fill the void carved out of your soul. 

your slumbering emotion cracks an eye open at the surge of conflict awakened within you.

“i am.” you withdraw your hand, spitting the word out like it is poison. “mourning.” 

“you are angry. that’s normal too.”

“i don’t appreciate you psychoanalyzing me.” you shove back at the crack of anger that sparks to your defense. deep down you know he means well, his words make the emotions in you swell further.

“you are trying to run away from it, just like i did.” he splays his hands on the countertop, a neutral gesture to soothe your defensiveness. “i know how hard it is to live with the sudden emptiness that appeared inside you, but it’s alright to sit with it, to feel the nothingness of what used to be there.”

you open your mouth to deny it, but he knows. suddenly you are reminded of the fact that he went through the same thing as a child, and it leaves you feeling guilty.

“i can’t” you finally admit the truth softly. “already, her smile is slipping from my mind. i lost her, i don’t want to forget her too, kageyama.”

“you won’t. ten years from now, twenty, thirty, her memories will live on in you. you will never lose the love you hold for her, or forget the love she gave you. grieving, properly mourning her passing is only the beginning of the end that stays with you for the rest of your life. i learnt the hard way that grief is just love with nowhere to go.”

your bottom lip wobbles as tears start streaming down your face at the eventuality of it all. the dam of tears that you suppressed over the last few days come breaking all at once, and then you feel it—the rawness of a broken and bleeding heart at the thought of never seeing her again. 

“i– i can’t–” you gasp between whimpers and sobs. “it’s too much.”

“it gets easier, but it never goes away completely.” kageyama says quietly, rubbing your back in circles as sobs engulf you. 

as much as he wants to take the pain away from you, he would never deny you the final act of love that stands as a testament of the bond that existed between you. so he stands there, right next to you as you finally allow yourself to grieve.

“love was here. love still is.”

you shatter in the sanctuary of his arms as grief finally catches up to you. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity @wordsofelie @theshxaverse @animechick555 @jkkhay @sickpatientt (gen) @mintgrumpy @box-of-roses (tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone @lale-txt (add yourself here)

a/n. it took three months to get here <33 and i couldn't wait any longer so forgive any mistakes i may have missed xoxo

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

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

[renardiererin]

[based on this post by @cvnt4him] 

the lighting in your bedroom is dim, casting just a faint orange glow across the already flushed cheeks of the man below you. you were straddling his lap, thighs on either side of his hips, lightly rocking your hips out of nothing more than subconscious will, and a pulse between his legs throbbing directly against your core. one of your hands in his hair and the other on his bicep. kageyama has always been sensitive. his whole body. every little tug on the roots of his hair gets his breath to shake a little bit more. his hands are sliding down from your waist to your hips to your ass in a continuous rotation. your tits are flush against his chest as you lay atop his abdomen, his breath quick and unstable in your ear as you bury your head further into the crevice of his neck. 

the skin is bitten red and raw, purple stains across his flesh, slick and wet with your spit. you’re letting out soft moans against the skin your mouth is sucking on as he jerks his hips up into yours at the way your tongue feels on his neck. you pull away to look at him, his eyes unwaveringly locked on yours, unblinking, the only steady thing about his body currently. there’s a silence between the two of you, breathing shaking and heavy as you hold eye contact. slowly, tobio’s head moves in towards yours, your eyes fluttering shut in preparation for a kiss, and his head angled down, rubbing his tongue delicately up your neck and to your jaw. he bites down softly on the flesh of your neck now, his hold on your hip only tightening the more he buried his head in your skin. his other hand slides up your waist and below your shirt, finding your breasts as he rolls your nipple between the pads of his fingers. you let out another whine, throwing your head back, making him pinch a little harder at the access he’d just gained. his hand slithers out of your shirt and back to cup your ass. you tug at the hem of his t shirt and he happily assists in its removal. you move yourself back over and shift slightly lower, locking your lips against the skin around his collarbone, littering more hickeys across his pristine skin. his mind so hazy from the uncontrollable lust you’ve instilled in him, he reaches his fingers gently down your stomach, playing with the band of your pajama shorts. you lift your hips slightly for him to slide them off and he does just that, his touch following up the inside of your thigh back to the heat radiating off of your pussy. he moves criminally too slowly as he reaches to pull the strings down your hips, the cloth sticking to the wet of your core as he peels them down your legs. he runs a fingertip gently up your slit, circling the bud of your clit gently and pressing down ever so slightly when you arch your back and let out a muffled moan against his chest at his touch. every shift of your hips has your tits bouncing against him ever so slightly, and god he can’t stop daydreaming about putting them in his mouth. next time, he will. for now, though, he’ll drag his fingers to your hole, poking just the tip of his finger into you and curling it ever so slightly as you mewl against him. it’s not long before he’s pulling himself out of his sweatpants, rock hard and leaking, and pushing himself slowly into your dripping cunt. he’s thrusting up into you as you grind yourself down, his finger circling your clit with your mouth still stuck to his skin. “tobio,” you whine, and it’s not long before he’s pumping hot seed into your walls and you’re flooding against him. your tongue runs down his neck and you collapse in the silence of your heavy breathing. you should give him hickeys more often. 

[alpali]

the perfect match ᥫ᭡

includes: kageyama x fem!reader, oikawa is readers ex boyfriend, 3k words, angst, fluff, sexual innuendo but no smut, mentions of alcohol, cursing, miscommunication, , college au, mutual pining

note: idk how to feel abt the ending(-.-;) let me know what ya guys think, reblog and leave a comment! I like reading your guys thoughts! enjoy<3

The first time you laid your eyes on Tobio you were on your way to class.

He had a milk carton in hand. His deep blue eyes, jet black hair and monotone expression. He was incredibly attractive and just the sight of him already had those butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The first time Tobio sees you is in his English class.

He never was that good at English and you weren’t helping either. He’s caught himself staring at you one to many times. Luckily you haven’t noticed.

At least that’s what he thinks.

Kageyama is stuck at the vending machines in the campuses cafeteria. He’s narrowing his eyes, deep in thought.

He’ll just get milk today…

No! The yogurt—

“Hey!”

He jumps, turning around and locking eyes with you. He blinks at you, not fully registering that you’re actually talking to him.

“Kageyama right? You left your notebook.” You wave it around and he purses his lips.

“Oh. Thank you.” He says, your guys hands grazing one another. The both of you perk up at the slight touch, coughing awkwardly.

“Are you stuck on choosing?” You say, not wanting to let this chance slip.

He nods.

“What are the options?” You stand next to him, shoulders grazing. His ears redden at the contact, trying to focus on your words.

“Milk or yogurt.”

You laugh.

“That’s it?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

You giggle again and the corner of his lips perk up.

“Nope! Of course not. I say the yogurt.”

He thinks about it for a bit and you smile at how cute he looks so deep in thought.

“Did you want one?” He asks before.

“I’m good…”

He narrows his eyes again and you laugh.

“Guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you around!” You wave, leaving his side. He waves back, feeling rather prideful that he was able to talk to you.

“So we meet again.” You say slyly.

Here you were both again.

At the vending machine.

“How about you try my favorite hm?” You tilt your head and he gulps, your cute antics getting to him.

“Ok.”

“Man of few words.” You click your tongue.

He awaits for your choice. You’d probably pick the coffee or probably a tea.

Wait a minute…

His brows furrow in confusion as you pull a yogurt out. You laugh at his expression.

“What?”

“All of that teasing last time just for you to choose the exact same thing.” He deadpans.

“I just wanted to mess with you.” You smile and he finds himself smiling along with you.

“Very funny.” He says sarcastically, choosing the milk.

“Now that’s something I can’t get behind.” You shake your head.

“What?” He pouts.

“How do you just drink milk.”

“It’s good for you. You don’t drink milk?”

“Only if I eat something sweet.”

He hums.

“You don’t pay attention in class do you?”

It catches him off guard and he quickly looks to the side. Have you noticed his staring? You have.

“Not really. I don’t like English.”

“I can tell.”

He glares.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You bite your lip.

“Nothing.” You drag out and he pouts.

“If you ever need help I’ll be more than glad to help you.” You smile.

“I might have to take you up on that offer then.”

“Great! Let me give you my number.”

His eyes widen a bit.

“Uh ok, sure.”

“Or not?” You back track.

“No no, I’ll take it please.” He avoids your eyes. You smile at him and happily type your number in his phone.

“Perfect! I’ll text you ‘kay?”

“Ok then.”

“Bye Kageyama!” You smile, waving and leaving once again. Another successful day for him again.

The two of you begin texting one another frequently. Completely forgetting your guys English class in general. You guys talk about your interests, what you hate, your hobbies. He tells you he’s on the volleyball team for your guys college and your interest in him only grows. You both had settled on a day to study. He didn’t like the sound of you tutoring him.

You arrive at the library and set up your things, awaiting his arrival.

“Hey sorry I’m late.” He whispers.

“I got us snacks.” He places the food, all of them being what you had mentioned you liked. Your heart warms at the small act.

“Thanks Kageyama. You didn’t have to.” You gush and he smiles.

“Take it as my thank you for helping me. Also you can just call me Tobio.” He almost murmurs the last part.

You smile softly at him.

“Okay Tobio.”

He blushes almost immediately, trying to distract himself by hurriedly pulling out his things. The study session goes perfectly and he actually did pretty well.

“You’re a pretty good teacher.” He smiles, packing up his things.

“Am I? Maybe I should start charging people.”

He pauses.

“You tutor other people?”

You grin.

“Don’t worry. Just you Tobio.” You eye him and he averts his eyes, his ears going red.

“I’ll make sure to pay you next time.” He mumbles.

“Next time?” You say coyly.

“W-Well I mean only if you want to.”

You grin, absolutely loving his reactions.

“I’m teasing you. You don’t have to pay, just take me out.”

He thinks he might just die.

The girl that he’s been pining over a month just asked him to take her out?

He’s definitely short circuiting.

“Take…you out?” He finally locks eyes with you and now you feel yourself growing nervous.

“I-It was a joke sorry!” You wave your hands, a blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Are you sure? I mean I don’t mind.” He says blankly and you blush even more.

How did this turn on you?

“Um yea. We can just text each other the details.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Ok. Sounds good. I’ll text you.” You hum the both of you leaving the library.

Tobio wasted no time in texting you. He was eager to take you out but the only problem was.

He was nervous.

Like.

Really nervous.

When was the last time he took a girl on a date? God he can’t remember.

What the hell does he do?

A picnic? It’s been snowing.

Maybe some food and walking around. That sounded decent to him. But would you be fine with that? He was overthinking too much.

He ends up going along with it and you agree enthusiastically, which eases his mind.

The day has finally come and he’s back to shitting bricks. He stands in front of your dorm room awkwardly, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He takes in a deep breath, knocking on your door.

“Coming!”

He hears from the other side and he his hands are sweating. You swing open the door, smiling up at him. But your eyes widen at the flowers.

“I got these for you.” He holds them out, glancing away. Your eyes soften and you gently take them from him.

“Thank you Tobio. They’re so pretty.”

Like you.

But he doesn’t have enough courage to let those words spill out.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yea! Could you help choose a jacket though? I don’t know which one goes with my outfit.” You pout. He shakes his head in amusement as you hold two jackets up and he chooses.

“Ok! All ready.” You smile, leaving and locking the door.

He takes you to a simple but nice diner. You ramble most of the time but he listens to every word you say intently. He talks about volleyball and you comment about it too.

The rest of the day is just that.

You guys window shop as you drag him into every story imaginable. Showing him outfits that’d suit him, all with a small smile lacing his face.

You guys get dessert as well, laughing when he gets a little bit of frosting on his nose.

On the walk back to your guys campus the conversation turns a little deep. The both of you talking about past relationships or experiences in general.

“You’ve never had a girlfriend?” You blink up at him.

“I mean I’ve talked to girls but no, it’s never gone that far. You?” He eyes you.

“Just one. In highschool.” You seemed to be lost in thought.

“He played volleyball too.”

Tobio snorts at that.

“Guess you’ve got a thing for volleyball guys.”

You pout.

“Hey I didn’t know you played!”

It catches you off guard for a bit. I mean obviously you could call this a date. And it’s not like it’s some secret that you guys have a thing for each other. But nevertheless it still makes your cheeks warm.

“I know I’m joking.” He chuckles.

“Ahh, I’m rubbing off on you.” You raise your brows.

“I guess you are.” You both laugh. However his next words make your laughter die out.

“So how’d it end?”

You stare off. The snowy night, tickling your face.

“Sorry I don’t know why I asked.” His lips pull into a line, mentally slapping himself.

“No it’s okay. It didn’t really end well. He was a heart throb. It was hard to maintain his attention because every girl at school liked him. So it just felt like I was competing to keep his attention on me.”

He listens carefully, a frown on his face.

“I’m pretty sure he regrets it now.”

You smile.

“Probably. I’m too good for him anyways.” You toot your own horn.

“Yea you are.” He fully means it.

“Am I too good for you?”

The words leave your mouth before you can even think. You’re about to bow on the floor, scream a bajillion apologies—

“Yea.” He says so genuinely, his eyes boring into yours.

The both of you had stopped walking. Your guys face flushed. However you’d both liked to blame it on the cold weather. A smile creeps on to your lips as you stuff your hands into your pockets.

“What a shame. I think we’d be a perfect match.” You look around playfully, leaning back and forth on your heels.

He tries to hide his smile, chewing the inside of his mouth.

“Yea?” He raises his brows, staring at you with delight.

“Mhm!” You hum, continuing to walk down the street.

“Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand.

“So…what does this mean.” He purses his lips and you laugh.

“What do you think it means.” You tilt your head.

“Do you like me?” He flushes.

“Obviously you dummy.” You laugh again.

“I’m not good at these things okay.” He glares at you yet your bright smile is contagious.

“Well then you’re lucky I’m a patient girl. We don’t have to put a label on it yet. But don’t take advantage of my patience.” You give him a stern look but he blinks.

“But I like you too.” His brows are furrowed.

“I know. I’m just saying we don’t have to rush things.” You play with the zipper of his jacket. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Okay then.” He smiles, taking your hand in his. The both of you walking back to the campus contently.

It’s been a month of numerous dates, showing up to his games, studying with each other and Tobio being the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

After midterms a party was being thrown after weeks of rigorous studying.

“Come on Tobi! I wanna go with you.” You pout.

He grimaces.

“I don’t know. It’s not my kind of thing.”

You pout again and he almost immediately changes his mind at the sight of it.

“It’s okay then, I’ll just go with my friend.” You play with his hair.

Almost on cue your friend perks up, smiling deviously.

“Don’t worry it’ll be so much fun! Although guys could be a handful. Especially if they’re horny and had a drink or two.” She eyes Tobio with a smirk.

Tobio frowns.

“I’m going.”

You stand there cluelessly as your friend laughs in victory.

The party was a week from now and you take this as an opportunity to go shopping with Tobio.

“Do we really have to go shopping. It’s just a party.” He sighs as you drag him into a store.

“This is the perfect time to shop. I can dress you up!” You smile.

“What’s wrong with my clothes.” He looks down at himself.

“Nothing Tobi, I just wanna match.” You peck his cheek. He blushes and abides.

“This is so hard. You look good in everything.” You pout. He smiles, playing with your hair.

“Why don’t we get your dress first then go from there.” He suggests and you nod.

“Smart man.” You smirk at him and he chuckles.

Now he finds himself in your shoes.

Because all of these damn dresses look too perfect on you.

“Maybe I should just go with this black one.” You look at yourself in the mirror, giving Tobio a twirl.

He gulps at the sight of you, not trusting his voice. He hums, nodding his head as he tries to settle his thoughts.

“So does it look cute?” You swing his hands.

“Yea you look beautiful.” He chews on his lip, a nervous antic that you noticed he has. You grin to yourself when you realized the effect you had on him.

“We’re gonna be the hottest people there.” You smirk, your hands placed on your hips. He laughs at your pose, shaking his head.

Loud music is heard from the house. You and Tobio are barely on the front yard.

“Are you sure you wanna go in? We don’t have to.” You pout, noticing how tightly he was gripping your hand.

“Just as long as you don’t leave me.” He murmurs. You smile, cupping his cheeks.

“I won’t.” You peck his nose and he feels his nerves melt away.

When you both enter, it’s hot and musky. Bodies pressed up on bodies, sexual tension swimming through the air and the heavy stench of alcohol.

“I never asked you? Do you even drink?” You glance up at him.

“Not really. Only when the guys have some at hangouts.” He says referring to his teammates.

The two of you greet your friends. His teammates eyes bulging out of their skulls when they see him.

“No fucking way! How the hell did you convince him to come!” They exclaim, slinging an arm over his shoulders, pointing at him.

“With a kiss!” You tease and Tobio glares.

“Don’t lie.” You guys laugh and he blushes as you talk to your friend.

Tobio talks with his teammates as his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly. A little habit to show he’s still here.

“We’re gonna go use the restroom okay? Don’t move an inch.” You wiggle a finger at him.

“You don’t want me to come?” He’s about ready to stand up.

“I’ll be quick!” You peck his cheek.

Your friend and you disappearing into the sea of people. His shoulders slug, a frown on his face.

“You hit the lottery man. When did you guys start dating?” He laughs, taking a swig of his beer.

“We’re not dating yet.”

They all look at him like he’s insane.

“Why the fuck not?!”

This was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He’s not one to share his personal life even if he sees these guys everyday.

“We’re taking things slow.” They all hum.

“I heard some guys from another university are coming.” One of them says.

“Yea, I think we played against them.”

Tobio zones them all out.

“Kageyama!? Fancy seeing you here!” He turns to the voice.

“Welp here they are. At least two of them.” One of his friends says.

“Oh. Hey.” Tobio nods. The guy grins at him.

“You! At a party? I gotta get a picture of this. Iwa take one yea?”

“No.”

“You’re such a party pooper!” He rolls his eyes.

“Anyways. Are you guys ready? We’ve been learning some new things~”

They all talk about their match coming up soon. Unaware of you staring at them all from afar.

Your heart is hammering against your chest and your legs feel weak.

“No way…” Your friend says from beside you.

They knew each other?

Scratch that.

They’re friends?

Your head is racing with questions and thoughts.

What were the fucking odds.

You knew this was too good to be true.

“W-What do I do.” You glance at your friend and she’s as lost as you are.

You see Oikawa laugh, his eyes tracing the crowd and then.

He locks eyes with you.

His eyes widen, his stare unwavering. Tobio follows his eyes and he lights up.

“Oh. There she is.” He says, getting up from his seat on the stool.

Oikawa’s eyes flicker to him, then back to you.

“You know her?” Oikawa huffs out.

“Uh yea?” He raises a brow.

“They’re together!” His friend yells and he glares at them making them laugh.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, awaiting Oikawa’s reaction.

“Seriously?” He says with distaste.

“We’re talking.” Oikawa scoffs as Tobio makes his way over to you but you step back.

“Hey I was waiting for—what’s wrong?” His brows furrow.

You gulp.

Your eyes not meeting his. With no words leaving you, you’re off.

“What—Hey!” He chases after you.

“Aww their first fight.” One of his friends says. The other laughs at Oikawa’s face.

“I know man. She’s a gem. Can’t believe he pulled her honestly.”

Oikawa’s jaw tightens, the red solo cup in his hand crunching.

“That’s my fucking ex girlfriend.” He grits.

Everyone is speechless, eyes wide.

“Damn.”

Tobio is spamming your phone.

Calls, texts, all of it and you aren’t answering any of them. He’s worried to no end and more than confused.

Did he do something wrong?

Are you okay?

Why weren’t you talking to him?

He’s out of breath from running back to campus. He reaches your dorm room, frantically knocking. Your friend opens the door and he frowns.

“Where is she.” He huffs.

“She’s…not here.”

His frown deepens.

“Where the hell is she.” He glares.

“She’s staying at a friend’s.”

Tobio closes his eyes, sighing.

“Tell her to answer me please. I was worried about her.” Your friend nods closing the door.

It’s been almost a little over a week and you haven’t talked to Tobio at all.

He found out the news from his teammates and was shocked. It was a little awkward but in no way did that change his feelings for you. They also told him that you were probably ghosting him and that scared the shit out of him.

He liked you so much and he didn’t want to lose you over this. All he wanted was to talk and he knows he’s not good at it but he wasn’t going to lose you like this.

He’s been showing up to your dorm almost every day. Hoping to find you there. Just how long were you going to avoid him?

With high hopes and determination, he knocks. He shifts on his feet.

Silence.

He sighs.

Maybe tomorrow.

The door opens and he snaps his head towards it.

It’s you.

His eyes soften and gulps.

“Finally.” He seems relieved but you avoid his gaze.

“Can we talk? Please?” He steps closer.

You nod and he steps inside.

“Look I heard what happened and I—”

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

His heart drops.

“What—Why?” His breathing becomes faster.

“You didn’t tell me you were friends with him.”

“I didn’t know he was your ex boyfriend!—Why does it even matter?” He says, his brows pulled together.

“You guys are friends Kageyama!”

“I wouldn’t say friends. Why are you calling me that.” His heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of his chest. His chest feeling tight.

“Do you know how awkward this is for me?”

“No I don’t. Unless you still have feelings for him. Do you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why is this bothering you so much?”

You sigh frustratedly.

He kneels down in front of you, grasping your hands.

“I—like you. A-A lot.” He gulps, trying to gather his words.

“I wanna be with you. You said we were the perfect match and I believe that. I always will. I don’t wanna lose you.” He says desperately.

His hands tighten around yours, his thumb gliding along your knuckles. Your bottom lip jitters as you look down.

“If you’re not over him, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me too. I-I don’t want anyone else.” His hands move to cup your face, wiping your tears.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out.

He pulls you into him as you cry. His eyes are shut tight as he holds you. You sob as you grab his shirt. He rubs your back soothingly as he nuzzles into your hair.

“It’s okay.” He whispers.

His words calm you down, the way he holds you. You missed him so much. You were stupid to think you could push him away. When your breathes begin to even out he pulls away. His hand caressing your face. You lean into his touch as he wipes your tears again.

“I don’t like him. I feel nothing for him. I was just so overwhelmed by the situation, I didn’t know what to do.”

He listens to you, his eyes softening. This was his first time seeing you cry and he’d do anything to take your pain away. To have that bright smile grace your face, the smile he fell in love with.

“I should’ve just talked to you but I pushed you away and hurt you.” You frown. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I understand. It must’ve been hard for you.” He says quietly.

You can feel his breath on your lips. Your noses practically touching one another’s. The both of you gaze at each other, your eyes falling on each other’s lips. With no words to be said, your lips meet in the middle.

The kiss is soft, sensual, hesitant. It lasts a second. Until he’s pulling you in for another. Your lips connect again, this time with no hesitation.

The kiss deepens as your hand comes up to grasp around his wrist. You both pull away and kiss again.

And again.

The kisses more frantic and feverish. His hands fall to your hips, as your lips move in sync. Your hands glide along his neck and you fall against your bed. He climbs on top of you, not breaking the kiss once.

Before things could escalate, he pulls away from you. His arms resting beside your head, caging you in. You both are breathless, with plump lips and messy clothes. His eyes are lidded as he stares down at you. Your hair is splayed out on your bed, framing you so beautifully.

“I’m done taking things slow. Can I be your boyfriend now?” He whispers, still not fully recovered from your guys make out.

You break out into a smile. Your hand cupping his cheek, swiping his bangs out of his face.

“Yes Tobi. You can be mine.” He smiles wildly.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing you once again.

© alplai