welcome to my blog! this is just a personal page where I reblog, occasionally ramble, and once in a blue moon post a sketch
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sonnels (sonn) • she/her • 20s • australian
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fandoms: fullmetal alchemist, haikyuu , love and deepspace (rafayel), the apothecary diaries, NCT (winwin), ATEEZ (seonghwa), pride & prejudice (1995 bbc mini series my beloved) + more!
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likes: trapinch! tea with milk, working in the greenhouses, red dirt countryside, citrus
wakatoshi tries to court his libero with the romance skills of an instruction manual, and somehow it works
part one here
wc: 2.1k, request
if a giant, left-handed railgun disguised as a high school boy can be reduced to a puddle of lukewarm miso soup by a single oblivious libero, the universe is broken.
the misunderstanding was currently sitting on a velvet couch in the ushijima household, eating a piece of sliced mango with a tiny wooden fork.
you were just happy to be included. truly. in your mind, this was peak platonic behavior. sure, most boys didn’t invite their “girl-friends” over to their massive, traditional ancestral homes just to sit in front of their very elegant, very intimidating mothers, but ushijimawas different. he was straightforward. he liked efficiency. if he wanted his best female friend to meet his mom, why should he wait?
“she doesn’t let the ball drop,” ushijima stated, his voice booming in the quiet tatami room like a sacred temple gong. he’s sitting perfectly straight, staring at his mother with an expression that could only be described as aggressively proud. “her platform is the most stable i have seen in the miyagi prefecture high school girls’ division. her center of gravity is remarkable.”
mrs. ushijima sat across from you, pouring barley tea with the grace of a woman who had never accidentally stubbed her toe in her entire life. she looked up, her sharp eyes scanning your face, then landing on her son.
“i see,” she murmured. then, a very tiny, very elegant smile touched her lips. “you chose well, wakatoshi. she has excellent posture.”
“thank you,” ushijima said, nodding once, looking immensely pleased with himself. “she’s my girlfriend.”
you, currently chewing on a piece of pear, just beamed and nodded along. yes! friend who is a girl! that’s me! you even gave his mom a little thumbs-up. “he’s really nice to me at school, mrs. ushijima! he let me use his personal muscle roller yesterday. it’s very heavy, but he carried it across campus for me.”
mrs. ushijima’s smile widened by approximately two millimeters—a monumental shift. “he’s a boy of few words, but he’s dedicated. please take care of him. he can be… single-minded.”
“oh, i know!” you laughed, completely missing the heavy, deliberate weight behind her words. “at practice, he just stares at me until i take a water break. it’s like having a giant guard dog.”
ushijima’s eyes softened so much they looked like melting chocolate. his hand came down on your knee—not a casual tap, but a heavy, warm weight that felt like an anchor anchoring you to the earth. “you require hydration to maintain your response time. i’m only monitoring your safety.”
your heart did a weird, violent salsa dance against your ribs. wow, you thought, he’s such a caring friend. boys’ volleyball captains are so intense.
the real test came twenty minutes later when ushijima’s phone began to buzz with a video call notification. he slid the screen open, revealing the face of his father, takashi utsui, sitting in what looked like an apartment in california.
“wakatoshi!” his dad grinned, the background behind him bright with american sunlight. “how’s the training going? are you hitting the cross-shots like we talked about?”
“the training is optimal, father,” wakatoshi replied, holding the phone out at an angle that gave his dad a magnificent view of the ceiling and half of his own forehead. “however, that isn’t why i’m calling. i need you to see her.”
he aggressively pivoted the phone toward your face. you suddenly found yourself staring into a screen, your eyes wide like a deer caught in high-beam headlights.
“hello!” you chirped, waving a hand.
his dad blinked, leaning closer to his camera. “oh! oh, wow! wakatoshi, is this—?”
“this is my girlfriend,” ushijima declared to the entire state of california. “she plays as a libero. her lateral movement is exceptional. during our last scrimmage, she defended three consecutive spikes from my opposite angle without losing her balance.”
takashi’s face erupted into a massive, delighted grin. “no way! a libero? you pulled a defensive specialist? man, i always knew you had good taste, but this is legendary! hey there, kiddo! how do his serves taste? they’re heavy, right?”
“they feel like a bowling ball falling from the second floor, sir!” you replied honestly, leaning into the frame. “but if i angle my wrists just right, they pop right back up to the ceiling!”
“she’s magnificent,” ushijima added, his voice dropping into a register so thick with reverence it belonged in a cathedral. he was looking at you through the screen, even though you were sitting right next to him. his gaze was a physical weight, warm and utterly unblinking. “i have no intention of letting anyone else have her.”
you blushed, your cheeks feeling like they have a built in heater. jeez, he really takes this friendship loyalty seriously. sport bonds are crazy.
“hey, treat her right, you hear me?” takashi laughed, shaking his fist playfully at the camera. “don’t just talk to her about air resistance and muscle fibers! take her out for parfaits!”
“i buy her meat buns every tuesday,” ushijima said, entirely serious. “and i carry her duffel bag because it keeps her shoulders aligned for the weekend matches.”
“good lad! nice to meet you, kid! keep him in line!”
the call ended, leaving the room quiet again. you turned to ushijima, your heart thumping against your chest like a trapped bird. “your dad seems really cool, waka. you look a lot like him.”
wakatoshi set the phone down. he didn’t pick up his tea. instead, he shifted his massive frame so he was facing you completely, his knees brushing against your thigh. the sheer size of him always made you feel small, but right now, with the afternoon sun hitting the side of his olive-brown hair, he felt massive in a way that made your stomach twist into a bunch of happy knots.
“he’s glad,” wakatoshi said softly.
“glad about what?”
“that i found you.” his large, calloused hand reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray crumb of mango from the corner of your mouth. his touch was incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the hands that could dent floors with a leather ball. “i told him last month that i found someone who makes me want to play better. he told me to keep her close.”
your throat felt entirely dry. “oh. that’s… that’s really nice of him.”
the next morning at school, you were standing by the shoe lockers when tendō materialized from behind a pillar like a tall, red-headed sleep paralysis demon.
“soooo!” tendō sang, leaning down until his nose was nearly touching yours, his eyes wide with interest for gossip. “the golden boy took the celestial shield to the home fortress! how was the queen mother? did she approve of the future daughter-in-law? did wakatoshi show you his collection of perfectly organized sports towels? details, look, details!”
you slipped your indoor shoes on, looking at him with mild confusion. “mrs. ushijima was really nice! she gave me barley tea. and we talked to his dad on the phone. he’s in california!”
semi, who was walking past with a stack of printouts, stopped dead in his tracks. the papers creased under his grip. “wait. hold on. he introduced you to his parents? both of them? in the same afternoon?”
“yeah,” you said, adjusting your school bag. “wakatoshi’s so sweet. he’s the best friend i’ve made since coming to shiratorizawa. he’s just so supportive of my volleyball career.”
the hallway went dead silent.
semi’s soul looked like it was actively trying to escape through his ears again. tendō froze mid-sway, his long fingers locking into claws in front of his chest.
“…friend?” tendō whispered, his voice cracking like dry kindling. “friend who is a boy? platonic? like… a buddy? a pal? a comrade-in-arms?”
“well, yeah,” you said, completely earnest. “he asked me to be his girl-friend after that joint practice, remember? it’s really nice having a guy friend who doesn’t make a big deal out of things. he just treats me normally.”
from five feet away, shirabu walked past, paused, looked at your face, looked at tendō’s melting expression, and simply said, “moron.” then he kept walking.
“no, no, no,” semi said, dropping his papers onto a nearby bench. he grabbed you by the shoulders, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. “look at my face. listen to my words. ushijima wakatoshi does not have ‘girl-friends.’ he doesn’t even have regular friends that he invites over to meet his mother. tendō has been close to him for years and he’s only seen the inside of that house twice, and both times were because of a group project on regional agriculture!”
“he’s literally courting you like an eighteenth-century warlord,” tendō wheezed, clutching his stomach as a massive grin broke across his face. “oh my god. he thinks you’re his fiancé at this point. he probably has a small shrine dedicated to your knee pads in his bedroom.”
you blinked, the words slowly tumbling around in your brain. courting? fiancé? shrine?
“but… he just likes my receives,” you mumbled, though your face was suddenly reaching a boiling point. “he says my center of gravity is optimal.”
“that is the equivalent of a poetry slam for him!” semi yelled, throwing his hands up. “if that man tells you your platform is stable, he’s basically asking you to move in with him!”
before you could process the absolute collapse of your reality, a heavy shadow fell over the three of you.
ushijima stood at the end of the hall. he had his blazer buttoned perfectly, his hair neat, and in his right hand, he was holding a small, warm plastic bag from the convenience store. he walked past semi and tendō as if they were nothing more than decorative house plants, stopping right in front of you.
“the cafeteria was out of the pork buns you like,” he said, his deep voice instantly cutting through the panic in your head. he reached into the bag and pulled out a fresh, steaming bun, wrapping it carefully in a napkin so you wouldn’t burn your fingers. “so i walked to the station store before the bell rang. eat it before class starts. your energy levels need to be high for the afternoon receiving drills.”
you looked at the warm bun in your hands. then you looked up at his face.
for the first time, you noticed the way he was looking at you. it wasn’t the look he gave the whiteboard during strategy meetings. it wasn’t even the look he gave a perfectly inflated ball. his pupils were blown wide, his jaw was slightly relaxed, and there was a soft, almost desperate warmth in his eyes that was entirely directed at you. he looked like a man who had stared into the sun and decided he never wanted to look at the dark again.
“wakatoshi,” you squeaked, your heart doing a massive backflip that left you slightly dizzy. “do you… do you think we’re dating?”
ushijima tilted his head, his brow furrowing in genuine, uncomplicated confusion.
“we are,” he said simply. “i asked you to be my girlfriend. you said yes. i have already informed my family and the team captain registration form for the summer tournament lists you as my emergency contact.”
tendō let out a high-pitched shriek of pure joy behind him, while semi just covered his face with both hands, groaning into his palms.
you stared at him, the sheer, beautiful absurdity of the situation finally crashing down. he was so serious. so completely, utterly devoted to you that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of a misunderstanding. he had just decided you were his, and he had been taking care of you with every ounce of his massive, stubborn heart ever since.
a sudden, wild burst of affection bloomed in your chest. you took a big bite of the pork bun, chewed quickly, swallowed, and grabbed his free hand with both of yours.
“okay,” you said, your face burning but your grin matching his dad’s from across the ocean. “then you better buy me the big parfait after practice today, boyfriend.”
ushijima’s eyes widened slightly, a rare, beautiful flash of teeth showing as a genuine smile broke across his face. his hand squeezed yours back, so hard your fingers cracked a little, but you didn’t care at all.
“i will buy you three,” he said.
n: i’ll be going out to treat my siblings tomorrow so idk if i can upload :3 it’s my little sister’s birthday tomorrow !
the silence of the apartment was a heavy, suffocating blanket, a physical weight that pressed against his chest until he was certain his ribs might crack like dry kindling. it had been exactly twelve minutes and forty-three seconds since the double blue checkmarks had appeared on the screen—two little sapphire daggers plunged directly into his sensitive, setter’s soul.
to anyone else, it was a tuesday evening. to oikawa, it was the great drought. the abandonment of the century. the day the sun decided to simply stop shining.
he sat on the edge of his bed, the glow of the phone illuminating the sheer, unadulterated devastation etched into his features. his thumb hovered over the record button. he had already scrolled through three different “sad classical piano” playlists on spotify until he found one with just the right amount of minor-key yearning.
click.
the soft, weeping notes of a nocturne began to swell in the background. oikawa waited for the crescendo, his eyes fluttering shut as if he were currently auditioning for a tragedy at the globe theatre. he drew in a breath so deep it sounded like a wind tunnel, then let it out in a long, rattling, theatrical exhale—a sound that carried the weary weight of a thousand lonely winters.
“it’s getting cold out here, my love,” he whispered into the microphone, his voice a hushed, melodic rasp. “the shadows are lengthening. the birds have stopped singing. i fear that if i don’t hear the chime of a notification soon, i shall simply dissolve into the floorboards and become a permanent architectural feature of this building.”
he sent it. then, thirty seconds later, another one.
this time, the piano was more aggressive. he let out a sharp, jagged huff, the kind of noise a victorian orphan might make while staring at a loaf of bread through a bakery window.
“thirteen minutes,” he groaned into the receiver, clutching his stomach as if he were nursing a mortal wound. “thirteen minutes of radio silence. is this the end? have you traded me in for a more punctual model? i bet his serves are mediocre. i bet he doesn’t even know your favorite drink temperature. please, have mercy on a dying man.”
somewhere, you finally stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your hair and picking up your vibrating phone with a curious tilt of your head. your lock screen was a graveyard of voice memos. you hit play on the most recent one, and the sound of a weeping cello nearly made you drop your phone.
“you absolute menace,” you murmured, a massive, uncontrollable grin tugging at your lips. you didn’t even bother to type. you hit the call button.
he answered on the first half-ring. “so, she lives!” he cried out, though his voice was immediately thick with a sweetness that could give a person five cavities at once. “i was moments away from calling the coast guard to report a missing person. i had the search party flyers drafted, y/n. i was going to use the photo where you’re eating that giant crepe.”
“i was in the shower, tōru,” you laughed, falling back onto your bed, the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribs. “for ten minutes. literally ten minutes.”
“a decade in tōru-time,” he corrected, his tone shifting from theatrical to something much more dangerous—soft, gooey, and utterly devoted. you could practically hear him pouting through the speaker, his lips pulled into that specific curve that always made you want to hand him your entire life savings. “a shower? without telling me first? the cruelty is staggering. i was sitting here contemplating the void. looking at my volleyball and thinking, ‘what is the point of a perfect toss if the light of my life isn’t there to witness my greatness?’”
“you’re a drama king,” you teased, though you were already twisting a lock of damp hair around your finger, your heart swelling at the sheer intensity of his focus.
“i’m a man in love!” he countered, his voice dropping into that honeyed, sincere register that always turned your bones to jelly. “there’s a difference. most people breathe oxygen, but i’ve discovered that i actually require a steady stream of your attention to maintain basic biological functions. my heart rate is currently synced to your typing bubbles. when they disappear, i go into cardiac arrest. it’s a very serious medical condition. my doctor is baffled.”
“you don’t have a doctor for that.”
“i’m my own doctor. and the prescription is your face. right now. preferably within five inches of mine.”
you bit your lip, the warmth spreading through your chest like spilled tea. it was ridiculous, the way he hovered over you, the way he seemed to revolve around your existence like a moon caught in a particularly stubborn orbit. he was the best setter in the prefecture, a titan on the court, a man who had thousands of girls screaming his name, yet here he was, throwing a fit because you hadn’t replied to a meme of a cat in a hat quickly enough.
“i’ll be over in twenty minutes,” you said softly.
the silence on the other end was brief, followed by the sound of him tripping over what was likely a stray sneaker. “twenty? make it fifteen and i’ll have the good snacks. the ones i usually hide from iwa-chan. the chocolate-filled ones you like.”
“deal.”
when you arrived at his door, he practically hauled you inside, his arms wrapping around your waist before the door had even clicked shut. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a desperate, shaky sort of reverence. he smelled like expensive cologne and the faint, salty tang of the gym, a combination that always felt like home.
“there you are,” he mumbled against your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction. he felt like a furnace, his heat seeping through your clothes. “the world is back on its axis. everything is fine. i’m a functional member of society again.”
he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his large, calloused hands. his brown eyes were wide and swirling with an affection so bright it was almost dizzying to look at directly. he looked at you as if you were the person who had personally invented the concept of color.
“did you actually record those memos with a spotify playlist running in the background?” you asked, leaning into his touch.
“i believe in production value,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with aching tenderness. “if i’m going to suffer the agony of a delayed text, i want it to be cinematic. i want you to feel the crumbs of my broken spirit.”
“you’re so dramatic, tōru. i love it.”
he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. “good. because i have enough devotion to fuel a large city, and i plan on spending every bit of it on you. now, come sit. i have three more dramatic sighs queued up for when you inevitably look at your phone instead of me.”
you laughed, letting him lead you toward the couch, his hand never leaving yours, his fingers interlaced with yours so tightly it felt like he never intended to let go. as you settled into the crook of his arm, he pulled a blanket over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders with a fussiness that was purely, vibrantly him.
he didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you with that raw, wide-eyed stare that made you feel like the only girl in the world. he leaned in, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your temple, then another to the tip of your nose, and finally, a slow, sweet press of his lips to yours that tasted of chocolate and absolute, unshakeable certainty.
he was a lot—he was a landslide, a tidal wave, a symphony played at maximum volume—but as you curled into his chest, listening to the frantic, happy thrum of his heart, you realized you wouldn’t trade his chaos for all the peace in the world.
n: i love oikawa so much, man. i sent this drabble to my friends, i think i’m so funny. be my friend pls.
𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.3k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ the ushijima version of distraction is here!! oh i love toshi sm ;) this one is shorter than oikawa's hope you don't mind
requested ☆
"why is he looking at l/n-san like she's a particularly difficult math problem?" tanaka whispers, shielding his eyes with his hand as if ushijima's gaze is the sun (theyre indoors..). "it's unsettling. he's trying to psych us out by targeting our managers!"
"maybe he's trying to intimidate our support system," nishinoya hisses back, puffing out his chest and stepping slightly in front of you. "don't worry, l/n! we'll protect you! he might be a very strong, but he hasn't met the power protection of the guardian deity yet!"
you sigh heavily, clicking your pen repeatedly and focusing very hard on your clipboard.
you try to keep your expression neutral. "he's just.. looking, guys. he's a very observant player. focus, come on – we're down by five points and the set is almost over."
tsukishima, however, is even more observant than usual today – and trust me, that's saying something. he leans back against the bench, intelligent eyes darting between you and the giant across the court.
he'd noticed the way your hand trembled slightly when ushijima had stepped up to serve, and he'd definitely noticed the nearly identical sports watches on both your wrists – a brand that was notoriously hard to get in this prefecture.
he hasn't said anything yet, but the smirk playing on his lips suggests he's putting the pieces of a very scandalous puzzle together.
and that's not a good sign.
the whistle blows for a timeout, and the gym goes quiet. as you step forward to hand daichi a water bottle, a large, looming shadow falls over you.
everyone – karasuno and shiratorizawa included – freezes in place. a hush has fallen across the gym.
ushijima wakatoshi had walked across the court, which certainly wasn't allowed. he was so tall that you have to peer up just to see his face, which remained as expressionless as a stone wall.
"y/n," he says. his voice is deep, carrying across the entire gym like he's announcing a royal decree.
"ushijima-san," you reply, your voice cracking slightly as you try to maintain a professional, 'manager to opponent' distance. you widen your eyes suggestively at him, 'ushijima-wakatoshi-you-better-shut-the-fuck-up-right-now'-i-swear-to–
you and your boyfriend had been doing a pretty good job at keeping things on the down low. so why was he acting like this now? "you're, erm, on the wrong side of the net. your coach is staring daggers at you."
but he doesn't move. he doesn't even acknowledge the rest of your team, who are currently staring with a mix of fear and confusion, which isn't exactly surprising since ushijima wakatoshi just walked across the court like it's nothing.
including tanaka and nishinoya. especially tanaka and nishinoya.
instead, ushijima reaches out, and for a terrifying second, tanaka and nishinoya look ready to launch a physical assault to save you – but ushijima merely reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear ever so gently.
"you forgot your lunch on my kitchen counter this morning," he rumbles matter of factly. not a question. "i brought it. it's currently in my gym bag. you should eat it. nutrition is vital for a manager's best performance, and you mentioned you felt off yesterday."
now, we all hear about silence being described in stories all the time, but they can't compare to the one that follows this. you can hear the distant sound of a bird chirping outside because no one in the gym is even breathing.
"kitchen.. counter?" hinata squeaks, tilting his head in confusion. "this.. morning? like.. the morning that happened today?"
tsukishima tuts, rolling his eyes. "no. last year's."
kageyama frowns. "that lunch must be very mouldy then, if it was from last year. l/n-san shouldn't eat it."
"idiot, i was being sarcasti-"
"wait," sugawara says, his eyes intrigued as he looks between your beet red face and ushijima's non expressive one. "you two.. live together? is that what 'kitchen counter' implies? ohoh-"
"our families are neighbors!" you blurt out, trying to save whatever scrap is left. "we've known each other since we were kids!"
ushijima frowns slightly, looking at you with a hint of disapproval. "that is an incomplete and flawed explanation, y/n. we've been in a relationship for fourteen months now. why are you omitting the truth?"
why are you telling the truth? you think sourly, but you're not too mad. in fact..
"it is inefficient to lie when the evidence of our cohabitation – even if only for breakfast somedays – is so apparent." ushijima finishes.
yeah.
"FOURTEEN MONTHS?!" the karasuno bench explodes in a flurry of pure shock.
on the other side of the net, tendou is doubled over laughing, slapping his knee as if saying, 'oh, what a kneeslapper!' "oh, wakatoshi-kun! you're so blunt! look at them, they look like they've seen a ghost! you really know how to kill the vibe, you ju-"
"ushijima-san," daichi says, stepping forward with his left eye twitching uncontrollably. "you can't just.. cross the court and claim our manager during a match."
ushijima turns his gaze to daichi, looking at him with the same interest he might show a mere weed. "i'm not claiming her. she's a person with her own thoughts and has chosen to remain at an underperforming school despite my advice. she should have come to shiratorizawa – the volleyball program here is superior, and the commute would be shorter for us both. it'd allow for twenty more minutes of sleep per day."
he then looked back at you, ignoring the collective gasp (mainly from tanaka and nishinoya) from the karasuno team at the underperforming comment.
"i'll wait by the bus after the match. i have the salmon onigiri your mother made for me to give to you. i also have the sweater you left in my car."
"wakatoshi, go back to your team!" you hiss, pushing at his solid chest with your face red. no use, though. it's like trying to move a brick wall.
"very well," he says, nodding respectfully to kiyoko, who watches with an amused smile.
as he walks back to his side, tendou drapes an arm over his shoulders, whispering something about romantic dominance, while ushijima just looks confused.
the match resumed, but karasuno was a wreck. every time ushijima spiked the ball, tanaka would scream, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OUR MANAGER, YOU MOUNTAIN!" which only resulted in ushijima looking bewildered because, technically, he wasn't touching you at the moment.
even hinata was distracted, whispering, "ushijima? boyfriend?" every time he rotated to the front.
when the game ends, with shiratorizawa unsurprisingly taking the win, the teams begin to pack up. you're just trying to avoid the interrogation glares from your teammates.
"so," tsukishima drawls, walking past you. "he.. is your boyfriend? i have to say, your taste is… interesting."
"he's very sweet once you get to know him!" you defend, narrowing your eyes at the blond.
just then, the gym doors open. ushijima's standing there, already changed out of his jersey. he's holding a small, insulated lunch bag with a little cat pattern on it – your lunch bag.
"y/n. the rice will get cold," he calls out across the gym.
you sigh, waving a hand to your 'are you guys seeing what i'm seeing' eyed team. "i'll see you guys on monday. don't.. don't make this a thing in the group chat, okay? please."
"it's already a thing!" nishinoya wails as you walk away. hinata nods in agreement. "he stole our manager! how are we supposed to win against a guy who gives our manager salmon onigiri?!"
as you reached ushijima, he takes your bag from you without a word, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own.
"did you find the match satisfactory?" he asks, looking at you as you walk toward the gates. "your team has improved, though their defensive positioning is still quite erratic."
"it was fine, toshi. a bit dramatic, though, thanks to you."
"i don't understand," he says, looking perplexed as he blinks at you.
"yeah.. don't worry about it."
sooo hope that satisfied you and i'm so sorry you had to wait two whole months 😭🙏🙏 i didn't know what to do for the title so erm
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Most of the mischaracterization Riza suffers from wouldn’t be nearly as popular if people actually understood why she follows Roy and it isn’t just love and loyalty.
One of the main reasons she stays by his side is because she sees herself as the guardian of flame alchemy. She’s trying to make sure of two things: 1. no one ever gets their hands on it again. and 2. the only person who can use it never misuses it again. That’s why she follows him. She has to. She’s watching the weapon she helped create.
And she has to keep him alive not only because he’s the one with the political power (meaning he’s her only real way to make sure the trials happen), but because he has to live long enough to atone for what he did with flame alchemy. The power SHE gave him.
From Riza’s point of view, every crime Mustang commits is hers too. Every time flame alchemy is used to kill that blood is on her hands too. Every person he killed is someone she killed by proxy.
She’s not just guarding him. She’s sharing his guilt. It’s like she’s trying to atone for her own sins, but he has to atone too so she can atone through him.
I think this Hannibal quote fits them really well: “You and I have begun to blur. Every crime of yours feels like one I’m guilty of.” Like yeah she obviously loves him. But reducing their relationship to just that completely flattens what’s actually going on.
i absolutely love youre writing, you are literally an aspiration of mine🤧🤧 but can i request a fluff head canon of daichi, kageyama, and bokuto driving to your house in the middle of the just because you seemed sad🥺👉🏽👈🏽 sorry if that’s really specific you can always adjust it if it’s too hard, but the idea just popped into my head because it’s simp hours and i’ve been kinda down lately. but please and thank you in advance🥺~
Coming to their S/O Late at Night w/ Daichi, Kageyama, and Bokuto
Words: 2040
Warnings: a lil angsty ngl
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Daichi
You sure you’re feeling alright?
Dai, get some sleep:). I’ll call you tomorrow.
You breathe out a shaky sigh, feeling heat rush to your eyes as your finger taps the send option, turning off your phone to lay it by your bedside. The house was empty, your parents out of town on an overnight trip leaving you by your lonesome. Again.
But that’s just how things always are, isn’t it?
You missed them, but you couldn’t be selfish like that. Not to them.
You remain still, lying on your back with your eyes pointed up at the ceiling, the lump in your throat growing with every passing thought as you try to will yourself to think of something else. Anything else.
The vibrations coming from your phone, signalling an incoming phone call, stay ignored as you cup your hand over your mouth, the tears finally spilling over at the dreadful feeling of being all alone, not wanting Daichi to hear the obvious strain in your voice if you answered.
You’re half asleep, moisture in your eyes dried away by time, when you hear your phone go off again about fifteen minutes later. You clear your throat, picking up your phone to Daichi’s icon lighting up your screen once again, and you do, deeming your voice clear enough to ensure he wouldn’t think anything of it.
One of the few people who’ve stuck around who just so happens to own your heart doesn’t need to see you like this.
“H-Hello? Is everything okay, Dai? You have a match tomorrow, you should really-”
“Open up, will you? It’s cold outside.”
You blink once, heart hammering in your chest as excitement brims your pitiful lonliness, your feet running to the front door as you momentarily forget the redness near your eyes and dried tear streaks. You bite your lip, phone falling loosely in one hand with your arm as you unlock the door.
Daichi’s eyes widen, one of his hands tucked in his sweatshirt pocket while the other still had his phone to his ear, a plastic bag hanging off the same hand that held his phone. Slowly, he lowers it, an unreadable expression crossing his face as he scans your appearance.
“Dai?”
You yelp when the plastic bag hits the floor, Daichi’s arms engulfing you tightly into his chest as you stutter out your questions, feeling Daichi nuzzle his nose into the crook of your neck.
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?” You manage out, fingers clasping onto the sweatshirt material on his back as you breathe in his scent, the anxious feeling draining out of your system.
Daichi pulls back, smiling the same lopsided grin you loved so much, his arms never retracting from around your figure. He clicks his tongue playfully, brushing some hair out of your face as you feel your lip begin to quiver again.
“You never ever use smiley faces, so I could tell something was up.”
“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling more emotional than usual as Daichi scratches at the back of his neck, looking into the dark house as he seems to silently fit the pieces together.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. Let me stay the night?”
“Don’t you have a match-?”
Daichi shushes you with a quick peck on the lips, cupping your face carefully to look you straight on in the eyes, making you want to hide away from the intensity of his stare.
“Match shmatch.”
“It killed you to say that, huh?” You giggle as Daichi grabs the bag off the floor, scoffing jokingly before walking into your empty house, flicking the lights on as he goes.
“You’re coming with me to this shmatch tomorrow, so we might as well make a night out of it, right? I dropped the mochi I brought, so you better appreciate my smooshed mochi.”
You bite back a smile at the now lit up house, closing the door until you hear it shut tightly, watching Daichi shrug his sweatshirt off as he settles down on the couch, dark hair tousled like he just got out of bed. You walk over so you’re standing in front of him, kissing his forehead as his hands find your waist.
“I suppose so, but you’re definitely not sleeping on the couch.”
“Now that can be arranged.”
Kageyama
The blue eyed boy takes the keys out of the ignition in front of the house that seemed void of anyone awake, wondering if the split decision to come at 3 in the morning was the right one.
Kageyama sighs, pulling at his hoodie strings so it would tighten more around his face, hoping to look less shady when in reality, he looked even more shady than if he were to be normal. He pretends not to see the nosy neighbors still awake peek out their windows.
With skilled fingers, he taps across his screen quickly.
I may or may not be outside.
His heart skipped with your quick response, especially since you hadn’t replied all day.
Coming.
Kageyama breathes out a sigh of relief, thanking the gods you were still breathing after avoiding his calls and texts all day. He gets out of his car, careful to shut his door quietly before leaning on his vehicle, seeing your front door open.
Your lips tremble at the sight of your tall, raven haired boyfriend raising his hand in an awkward wave in his black hoodie. Your pace picks up until you’re running, launching yourself into his chest in a tight, desperate hug as Kageyama stills, heat rushing to his cheeks.
“W-why are you here?” You sniff into his chest as Kageyama attempts to find the right hand placement in the hug, suddenly becoming overwhelmed with the sudden affection.
“You didn’t answer my calls all day...especially when tonight is when your favorite show airs another episode-wait are you crying?!”
“Tobio, I- no. Obviously not. “ You gripe, feeling Kageyama relax as you undo his hoodie strings so his face isn’t scrunched by the hood. “What are you doing? Someone could think you’re a criminal.”
“What do you mean- I’m here for you, and you’re calling me a criminal?”
You can’t help yourself from laughing, your chest feeling less heavy already before Kageyama suddenly blushes, wiping a few stray tears on your cheek with his thumb as he looks off to the side.
“So tell me what’s wrong.”
“You sure you want in on my drama?” You joke before Kageyama’s blue eyes take on a serious edge, causing you to press your lips together.
“Close your eyes.”
“No, you’re a criminal.”
“Y/N-”
“Okay, but do you wanna know why?” You offer, shutting your eyes tightly as you giggle.
“Why?” His tone is softer.
“Because you stole my heart! Boom, pickup line delivered-”
“Same here. And I don’t like seeing you cry.”
Your voice falters at the feel of his lips on your forehead, gone almost as soon as they came. Your eyes snap open right away, seeing Kageyama already halfway down the sidewalk with reddened cheeks before you break out in all smiles.
“Heeeey, you drove here, remember?”
“I can walk.”
“No! I’m gonna steal your car-”
“And I’m the criminal?”
“Tobio, you’re gonna make me sad again.”
You press your lips together to stop from giggling as his retreating form freezes before frigidly turning, three shades darker than he usually was before you skip to meet him halfway, all traces of previous sadness gone as Kageyama’s face takes on one of irritation.
“There. Happy now?”
“Not quite.”
The blue eyed boy doesn’t have time to react when you pull his hoodie strings into a quick kiss, smiling into it and leaving him frozen in place as you walk back up the pathway to your house.
“I am now!”
“Y/N.”
“you look mad, do I need to call the police and report a mad criminal outside my house?”
“You’re not sad anymore?” Kageyama’s serious tone makes you pause before looking over your shoulder, offering him a wide smile before shaking your head, no.
“I love you, dimwit.”
Bokuto
“Hey Bo?”
“Hey hot stuff! I just got out of practice, and-”
“I’m really really thankful for you, you know that?” You fight to keep the quiver out of your voice as the cool air tickles the exposed skin on your neck, tracing patterns into your porch seat. “I’m gonna get some rest now.”
“Y/N, what-?” You bite your lip at the worried tone in his voice.
“I love you Bo, gotta go bye.” Your words are rushed as you hang up the call, the lump in your throat finally breaking surface as tears rush down your cheeks in a frenzy from being bottled up. You breathe in the night air, wondering just when the feeling of the world crashing around you would lighten up once more.
You sob quietly, feeling your phone go off again and again as you stop yourself from answering it, feeling time go by rather quickly as you attempt to rid yourself of your emotions. Time went by so quickly, you didn’t even notice the familiar vehicle pull up in front of your house, or the pair of shoes enter your sight from your position of looking down on the floor.
“Now who left this beautiful girl out here? Is she up for grabs?”
Bokuto’s sweet words aren’t enough to stop you to sob harder at the fact that he was seeing you at your lowest, causing Bokuto to take a careful seat next to you on your porch bench. His gold eyes looked straight ahead, arm slinging over your shoulders to pull you tightly into his side.
“Hey! The stars are super pretty tonight, Y/N, almost as pretty as you!” Bokuto exclaims, pointing upwards as he places your head carefully on his shoulder, feeling your quivering form ease slightly.
“I hit a totally awesome cross-spike during practice today, and Akaashi says he didn’t see it, but I 100% know he did.” Bokuto rambles, fingers tracing circles on your back comfortingly as you realize what he’s doing. He’s pretending he doesn’t see you crying, so you don’t feel weak. He knows you like that.
“It sucks practice got out so late, I would have come and visited you sooner if I had the chance, babe.” Bokuto’s eyes are still looking up as his fingers thread through your hair, feeling your breathing even out.
“You know how I get sad sometimes?” Bokuto’s excited tone dwindles as you lift your head off his shoulder slightly. “When I get all down in the dumps and no one seems to be able to pull me out of my slump? Well, almost no one.”
Bokuto’s gold eyes cast downward at you, his hand catching and wiping away and tears. “So like how you’re able to help me at my lowest, can you maybe let me do the same for you?”
Bokuto shrugs his team jacket off, draping it across his lap before you can respond. You don’t hesitate to lie your head down in his lap, feeling better as Bokuto runs his fingers through your hair, gold eyes looking down at you lovingly.
“Bo.” You whisper, catching one of his hands as he strokes your cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He blinks as if he’s confused, and you smile, snuggling into his lap as Bokuto places a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“Get some rest, alright?”
“Hey Bo?”
“The stars are really pretty tonight, right?” Bokuto’s eyes close as he grins, and you breathe clearly, feeling tiredness wash over you.
“Right. Hey Bo?”
“Again, totally not as pretty as-”
“Bo.”
Bokuto shuts his mouth, waiting for you to continue before you surge upward to kiss him, feeling Bokuto respond eagerly as it feels as if your entire being was being pieced back together.
“I love you.” You mumble, feeling Bokuto lay your head back down in his lap carefully as your eyelids give in to the increasing heaviness.
“You don’t know how much I love you, Y/N.” Bokuto whispers, smiling to himself as you fall asleep in his lap.
Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays if you celebrate Sonn !! It’s always such a delight to see you around and I hope the season has been kind to you. Have a wonderful rest of the week, sending you my love !! 🤍
Merry Christmas Hazel !! Hope you've had a restful holiday filled with lots of good food 🤍🤍 I love seeing your posts on my dash so much hehe 🫶
