why—in character x reader social media band AUs—is it always the character that’s in a band?
why not the reader? is the reader not allowed to live the indie rockstar life and make eye contact from up upon a stage, like a god with the bright lights behind them?
why can’t the character be the one that runs a stan account? either totally supporting their oshi(reader) or subtweeting how infuriating they find the reader? do you people feel nothing for fell first AND fell harder tropes on the character’s side anymore??
synopsis.cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn’t refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).
tags. social media au, college au, fake dating, matchmaker, romance, crack, humor, fluff! (mostly), very light angst, kind of self destructive behavior, hopeless romantic emphasis on hopeless!
warnings.time stamps are irrelevant !!, foul language (aka cursing), drinking/alcohol
status. on-going (02/15/24 —)
— playlist.
teasers
[name]’s reading list | suna’s playlist | [name]’s in trouble !
profiles
ppl who think love sucks + [name] | inarizaki dogs
episodes !
chapter names may be subjected to change as the fic goes along.
( ❥ ) — has narrative parts
( the email )
ACT I
01. romance 101 w [l/n] [name] !
02. aren’t you like, cupid
03. absolutely insane
04. sweetest girlfriend
05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags ( ❥ )
06. passion is a passing thing
07. pretty please ( ❥ )
08. we can be friends ( ❥ )
09. relationship lore
10. ur like an exothermic reaction ( ❥ )
ACT II
11. ultra galactic curse
12. for the act
13. lol didn’t think u were mine
14. attachment issues showing
15. the grumpy x sunshine trope
16. shitty romance books
17. will they/won’t they
18. i wanna want you
19. touch some grass
20. and the world stills
ACT III
21. being with you is ecstasy
22. mega ultra galactic curse
23. you hate me? so enemies to lovers?
24. dead, shattered, devastated
25. keep your eyes on me
26. i’m just a girl
27. supersonic love
tba !
taglist is CLOSED !
to be added to the taglist you can just send in an ask or comment :)
notes. hi so this was like supposed to be posted on valentines but i got impatient and hey its still the month of love so whatever ehe will not start till i finish nonsense since i need to learn how to do stuff one at a time! but yeah super excited to make this bc i love fake dating and i love suna rintarou hohoho thank you guys sm for 400 followers i love you all <3
Would you be my lovergirl?
We could run up against the world
I don't wanna waste my time
I just wanna lay with you
⭅ back to m.list
We don’t need memories.
It was only later in life that Osamu fully grasped the deeper meaning of Inarizaki’s volleyball club slogan. While he felt indifferent about it at best back then, in this very moment he wants to vehemently protest it. With her, he needs all the memories. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of it.
Of her.
Life takes some funny turns sometimes, he learned. One night he’s lying awake and scrolling through the blog of the most feisty and beautiful girl he ever laid his eyes on; then a heartbeat later he’s in the exact same spot, unable to fall asleep because the sheets smell so much like her, like the echo of a siren song calling out for him. Some nights it makes him feel like he’s losing his mind from all this unfamiliar yearning in the pits of his stomach.
He really tried to forget about how perfectly her sleeping form fitted into his side, with her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, her breath steady and warm against him. Or the weight of her leg, thrown over his middle and trapping him in, all tangled up. Her fingertips dancing over the exposed skin of his hip bones before they come to rest against his side, just underneath the seam of his shirt where she slipped them so quietly, naturally, as if they had done this a thousand times before–
Osamu shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the vivid memory, like he wasn’t only a few minutes away from seeing her again. His girl. He’s blissfully ignoring the thundering drum of his heart and throws his backpack over one shoulder, his free hand dragging his luggage behind him.
He told her to wait in the car for him, knowing she hated crowds and would be overwhelmed easily trying to find him at the busiest station of the whole country. It was a compromise. You know, I can just take a cab from there and be with you in no time, he had told her over the phone to which she had let out a huff, as if it was the dumbest thing she ever heard. Don’t be silly, of course I’m coming to get you. You’d do the same, right?
She had a point. Osamu would walk to the end of earth if he knew she was waiting there for him.
Getting to her feels like crossing a maze; and he can’t help but think that this feels similar to conquering her heart, never knowing which turn to take but eventually every path leads to her. He reaches the highest deck of the parking garage, the sun in the zenit, but that’s not what’s blinding him.
Osamu sees her before she sees him. Inside of the parked car her eyes are on the rearview mirror, and from the distance he can’t tell if she’s reapplying her lip gloss (don’t think about kissing her, don’t think about kissing her…) or wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth, evidence of that being the half eaten croissant on the passenger seat. When he gets closer he notices how she’s humming to the music playing from the radio, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel, windows rolled down, a small smile playing upon her lips. She looks peaceful, a little giddy even.
Their eyes meet through the rearview mirror and everything feels electric.
It’s Osamu who moves first, dropping his baggage to the ground and taking the last few steps till he’s at the driver’s door. She hasn’t moved yet, probably paralyzed by whatever anxious thought her brain was shooting at her in this moment, only slowly blinking at him when he reaches for the door handle.
As if she was in a dream.
As if she was his dream.
Only when he opens the car door and holds out a hand for her she’s stirring back to reality. That’s when her lips curve into a smile again and her hand slips into his, so effortless as if it’s something they do on the regular. She says his name in the softest tone and Osamu thinks he never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.
His arms wrap around her when she stumbles out of the car, catching her in a warm embrace, and one heartbeat later her arms come around his middle, fingers twisting in his shirt as if she was afraid he’d slip away from her any second. Osamu lets out a quiet laugh and hugs her tighter against his chest, one hand coming up to the back of her neck, calloused fingertips brushing over her bare skin. He’s pretty sure she can feel the way his heart is about to crack his ribcage open, like a pair of hands opening up a pomegranate for her.
“Sorry I kept you waiting for so long.”
I love you.
“No worries, you didn’t. I listened to the playlist you sent me meanwhile. Was your trainride okay? Did you have enough to eat?”
I love you.
“Eh, it was fine. I saw a recipe online I think you’ll really like, I’ll show you when we’re home. Maybe we can try cooking it together while I’m here.”
I love you.
“Yeah! Fun. You must be hungry, I brought you an almond croissant from my favorite bakery.”
I love you.
They pull apart, just enough to search each other’s gaze, and Osamu’s hands tremble slightly when he cradles her face with all the gentleness of the world. The words are lying on the tip of his tongue, sweet and alluring, and when she rests her hands on top of his he’s pretty sure he forgot how to breathe.
If Osamu was a braver man he’d kiss her right here, right now.
But his heart feels like it’s gonna burst at the seams just from thinking about it, so he pulls her closer again, his lips brushing against her temple. Innocent and yet so heavy with a promise. He knows she understood from the way she hugs him back, her hands now dancing across his back as if she wants to memorize the shape of him. His head comes to rest against hers and Osamu thinks this is the closest he’s ever gotten to holding the sun in his arms.
•┈••✦ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥…
y/n couldn't control herself and ate half of the almond croissant she bought for Osamu (it's ok, they'll go get another treat later) (he would've done the same)
she did NOT let her intrusive thoughts win when she spotted Osamu in the rearview mirror
kiss & tell groupchat is about to go wild soon with all that kissing and telling on the horizon
y/n's room is at the end of the hallway with only Makki's room next to hers, so all hopes are on him to report anything back to the groupchat
when Osamu started the video call he was still at work but it was a quiet evening so they'd only get occassionally interrupted by an incoming order
all the staff said hi too when they saw the propped up phone, asking y/n when she'll be back
also upcoming beach episode? i'm sorry but this smau is basically me wrapping all of my shoujo romance dreams into one story
please know that Osamu completely forgot about the reason why he came to Toyko in the first place (viewing places to open a new Onigiri Miya branch) the second he laid his eyes on y/n
i'll keep every promise (if it's a promise with you) | oikawa tooru x reader
oikawa tooru has a bad habit of breaking promises and running from his first love.
or: the four times oikawa breaks his promises and the one time he keeps one
( a / n ) - oh my god this is my magnum opus... my baby.. its a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff and a little slice of life. u go through ages 6 to 28 LMFAO. iwaizumi + you + oikawa were such a fun trio to write for and i hope u guys enjoy !!
gn! reader | 2k words | happy birthday OIKAWA
Oikawa Tooru has a guilty conscience and a bad habit of breaking his promises.
For every promise made and every promise broken, Tooru repents: 200 yen slid in a saisen-bako, a ninety degree bow, two wishes at a shrine. An offering to counter every promise he breaks, ample water to wash away his sins, and apologies written on wood.
( Iwaizumi has made the grand suggestion of: Maybe not breaking your promises? on several occasions, but Tooru can’t help it. )
He’s broken four promises and made eight wishes so far: four on blue Tanzaku and four atop Ema boards, followed with a prayer and an offering if the promise broken was particularly heinous or particularly his fault.
He breaks his first promise at six years old– one made with you and Iwaizumi when the three of you were four and freshly neighbors. It was Tooru’s birthday, and he had promised this:
I swear that I will take us all to the Ryokan before I turn six.
It’s a small promise: one that neither you nor Hajime had expected him to follow through with. But Tooru believed it, and Tooru had tried. He takes every single chore and odd job in the Oikawa household, scraping together a two-year-old Ryokan trust fund with mismatched coins and crumpled bills. He saves his allowances and puts everything in a glass jar next to his bed, and dreams.
Two Julys pass. Oikawa blows out four candles and then five, the jar gets bigger, you start Elementary school, and you and Hajime forget about the Ryokan. And then, on the third July, when Tooru turns six, you and Iwaizumi find Tooru mumbling about a broken promise— courtesy of his failure to take the three of you on an all inclusive trip to that Snow Monkey Ryokan that Iwaizumi wanted to go to.
So he apologizes through prayers at a shrine and two wishes under a red Torii gate. It’s a thirty five stair climb to the neighborhood shrine: Hajime and Tooru race up and you come last, but the view is gorgeous and Tooru feels considerably less guilty.
It is 100 yen for each wish on a colored paper strip. Hajime says they’re called Tanzaku. Hajime drops one coin, Tooru drops four, you drop two. Seven thunks, four wishes.
Tooru gets the honor of tying your tanzaku on bamboo branches as the tallest of your trio, and with it, the honor of reading your wishes.
Iwaizumi’s wish is messy and scrawled on bright red— Tooru tells him to Please work on your handwriting, but it’s legible and all well wishes for volleyball and you and Oikawa and cicadas.
Tooru’s got two wishes— a cyan one and a turquoise one, but he only lets you and Hajime read the cyan one. His cyan one is a little neater than Iwaizumi’s and reads:
Sorry I couldn’t take us to the Monkey Ryokan.
He hangs the red one on his tippy-toes. Cyan next. Hajime cheers a little when Tooru hangs turquoise next to your pink one, and then asks:
“Whaddya need two wishes for anyways?”
He shrugs.
“Guilty conscience, maybe?”
You’re thirteen when Tooru promises that he is going to ask you out in two years. Tooru is not allowed to date until he’s in high school, so he tells you under a blanket of stars that when the two of you are a little older, he will ask you out properly and maybe take you on a date.
He walks you to school every morning. Hajime comes too, but the pink skies before the sun rises are for you and Tooru. Moments before you make it to Iwaizumi’s block are moments that Tooru gives you his scarf, and then his gloves, and when the wind bites at your cheeks too hard his jacket is draped over your shoulders. On rainy days, Tooru holds the umbrella and laughs as your fingers brush and your cheeks flush. Some mornings he brings you toast: and tells you in hushed whispers to eat it before Iwa-Chan sees.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk you home after cram school and volleyball practice. Hajime’s house is first— so Iwaizumi bows first, heads back inside first, waves goodnight first. When the door closes and the light turns on, the black sky and twinkling stars are for you and Tooru. He always says Good Night saccharine sweet with a smile like the sun that makes you feel like you really can’t wait to turn fifteen.
Oikawa blows out fourteen candles. The three of you graduate in blue and walk home like usual. Summer passes, another July goes by, Oikawa blows out fifteen candles, and high school starts.
You learn several things in your first year at high school: you really like the student council, Hajime is actually pretty smart, and Tooru is afraid of commitment.
Tooru is popular: he is athletic and tall and the Volleyball Club’s golden first year. He smiles at the girls in his class, he slings arms around their shoulders, he winks when he passes by the student council room, and he preens a little and shines a lot.
Oikawa is fifteen when he goes on his first date with a girl from another school: and when he tells you and Iwaizumi after he gets home, he plays dumb as Hajime gives him a look and takes you home, overhearing Iwaizumi’s apologies and your crestfallen voice as you say something about a promise.
Oikawa’s chest hurts that night so he walks to the shrine with 200 yen in his pocket and a sorry scrawled on two pieces of colored Tanzaku.
Oikawa turns sixteen and goes to the shrine again.
This time, it’s a broken promise with a girl in his class. She was popular– she smelled like cotton candy and reminded Tooru of strawberries and daisies, so when she asked Tooru out, he had said Sure, and he had smiled like she was the sun.
But he’s a bad boyfriend– a terrible boyfriend– because he’s only there when it’s convenient and he ditches her for volleyball practice and maybe sometimes he catches himself thinking about a certain childhood friend when she holds his hand and buys him milk bread at lunch.
She was sweet and she was terribly pretty, but he doesn’t feel anything when she kisses him or when she rests her head on his shoulder.
Iwaizumi asks him what he’s running from after practice one day. Tooru knows Iwaizumi is asking why he is running from you.
Tooru is a little scared of how you make him feel too much. Oikawa likes being in control and Oikawa likes stability, so when he realizes that his heart thumps erratically whenever you’re around and he finds himself all consumed with thoughts of you and a burning desire to please you; he rejects and refrains. And runs.
His girlfriend dumps him after a few months. Tooru says sorry, removes her phone contact, and faintly remembers a promise he made with her four weeks ago.
I swear I’m not in love with someone else.
from: tooru (23:20)
shrine time!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶
from: hajime (23:21)
You broke another promise?? Ur a piece of shit lol
from: tooru (23:22)
iwaaa chan U￣ｰ￣U ur so mean !
from: you (23:24)
bro . don’t tell me it was about ur ex
ur a manwhore !!!!
from: hajime (23:25)
Average Shittykawa moment
from: tooru (23:25)
i can’t help it !! (✿ ♥‿♥)
everyone wants a piece of me !!!
ill pick u guys up and we’ll go to the shrine and ramen after plsss ☆
from: hajime (23:26)
Ur treat?
from: tooru (23:27)
iwa-chan’s treat !! i’m going through a nasty breakup, remember ? \_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯
from: you (23:29)
hajime we know his address we can burn his room down
from: tooru (23:30)
OK FINE my treat! it’s on me!!! everyone say thank you tooru !!!
from: hajime (23:31)
thank you tooooruuu chan (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
tooru and y/n reacted with: Scared !
from: tooru (23:32)
um please don’t do that ever again
Oikawa’s fourth promise is one to himself and one to Seijoh.
We will make it to Nationals.
He doesn’t leave his room for a week when he breaks it. He’s inconsolable. He says he’s sick: he’s got a bad fever, it’s contagious, he’s bedridden, he’s fine. But the lights are never on in his room, his curtains are always drawn, and you know that Tooru devoted everything for a chance and a dream and a volleyball.
He comes to you first. He’s standing in your doorway and there are bags under his eyes and he says, Hi, and then, I’m fine. He tries for a smile— and then you give him a look, and suddenly he’s in your arms and sobbing.
He cries for two hours. Tooru ugly cries– his chest racks when he sobs and his arms are tight around you and digging into your back. Oikawa Tooru is not weak: but he is not a prodigy.
He falls asleep in your bed with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s shifting a lot and he’s probably having a nightmare. You call Hajime before gently shaking Tooru awake.
He blinks up at you— all puffy eyes and tousled hair and swollen cheeks, but he sees you and he softens.
“Wanna go to the shrine?”
Iwaizumi still grumbles the whole way up the thirty five steps, but he’s quiet as Oikawa slips two coins into the saizen-bako. Hajime wraps an arm around your shoulder as the coins rattle in the box and you know he’s upset too— his hands are slightly shaking and he keeps sniffing. Nationals might have been Oikawa’s dream but Iwaizumi was also a dreamer, and sure, Oikawa was going to go, but they were going to go together.
Tooru hangs two Ema boards and for the first time, he bows at the Honden. Two claps. Head down and hands together as he prays. Iwaizumi joins him: and you watch as Oikawa apologizes to him and Hajime shakes his head- because it was Hajime’s promise too.
Oikawa is twenty-eight and on a plane when he finally keeps his first promise.
It’s a small promise: but a promise nonetheless, one that he made before he left for Argentina. He tells you he loves you at the airport but he has his boarding pass in one hand and his passport in the other. And you tell him you love him too, but also that he’s being unfair, and no you won’t go out with him. And Oikawa knew you would say that, but he still finds himself making a promise– a promise you laugh at because Oikawa Tooru never keeps his promises.
If we’re still single in ten years, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to ask you out.
You cry, and Tooru wraps his arms around you and cries too— and then Iwaizumi’s there, and Iwaizumi’s crying, and you don’t know which part of you is Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Oikawa leaves for Argentina with a heavy heart but a hunger for the future.
In the ten years that pass he plays a lot of volleyball. He tans a lot. He learns some Spanish. He tries beach volleyball. And then, he buys a plane ticket on his birthday.
from: y/n (21:12)
happy birthday tooru !! me n hajime r having an honorary drink for u. hope ur having fun in argentina!!! hajime and i say te amo !!!!
from: tooru (21:15)
i’d like a hot sake plssss thank u!!! ( ˙▿˙ )
from: y/n (21:15)
LMFAO. no. me and haji r drinking ASAHI DRRRRRRYYYYYYYY for u
bro also hajime got BUFF wat the hell
hope ur tanning good in argentina
from: tooru (21:16)
well tell BUFF iwa chan that ill be there in 5 and i want a HOT SAKE and also YES i tanned good SO EYES OFF IWAIZUMI
from: y/n (21:17)
?
what?
ur funny lol
…
TOORU?
Tooru is twenty eight and might retire soon. Thirty five stairs is too many to climb and keeping promises is far more fun than breaking them. So he taps your shoulder, hands Iwaizumi your bouquet, and takes your cheeks in his palms to tilt your chin over.
you were taken aback by the unexpected comment from the man you hardly knew, your mouth agape as words failed to come forth. "i-im sorry..?" you asked, your voice tinged with hesitation and confusion. the man has a bored look on his face, but his words is totally striking your pride. "you're miya's girlfriend arent you? but people cant seem to differentiate between you and a slut because of that dress you're wearing," you were really surprised by his rudeness, and the word 'slut' hurts you like shit. no one has ever called you that, and why is this random stranger degrading you like you're some low women?
"what the hell did you just say to my girl?" atsumu's voice was cold and harsh, his angry tone evident. "who the fuck are you to tell my girl what to wear?" he asked, his fists clenched and jaw tightening. before you could speak, atsumu punched the guy. a commotion ensued, and you both left the party as the situation worsened. its safe to say atsumu made some new enemies that night, and now he's enduring a lecture from you while you apply ice to his bruised jaw.
you know atsumu is not a weak man; he will throw punches if needed for you. he doesn't mind being your knight in shining armor, because it's you.
"dont mind his words, you can wear whatever the fuck you want because i can and will fight if anyone opposes," a smile formed on your lips as you heard atsumu's words.
"I don't recall agreeing to be a glorified weighted blanket when I decided to come over." Kiyoomi chuckles from his place on your chest, legs tangling with your own, arms curled around your back.
You kiss his forehead, your smile mirroring his. "You didn't? I thought it came with being a boyfriend?"
"What? Crushing the love of my life with my entire body weight? I think I missed the patch notes for that update." He teases.
"Oh, shut it, you loser." You roll your eyes, pulling his head closer to your chest to smother his laughter. "Just cuddle me. Please."
"No," He huffs out his dissent, softened around the edges by the motions of your hands in his hair, and all the while his arms tighten around you. "You're asking for a lot after calling me a loser." You feel rather than hear his words as he mutters them into your — his — shirt.
"I'm sorry, you big baby." The snort he lets out in response pulls your grin wider. "Whatever shall I do to regain your favor once more?"
He pinches you lightly for your dramatics; your exaggerated posh tone startling into a yelp.
"Pancakes would be nice." A sharp inhale punctuates his words as you tug his hair harshly in retaliation, before smoothing it out in apology.
"Only if we can go out and have ice cream after."
"And of course, I'm paying since you'll conveniently 'forget' your wallet, huh?"
"That was one time!"
He chuckles at your outburst. Turning his head just enough to leave a kiss on your collarbone, he halts your tirade before the words even have the chance to form in your throat.
"Of course, baby."
Then, he places one last placating kiss under your chin before both of you succumb to the coziness of the atmosphere.
you take a deep breath and try to smooth out your skirt on your lap. this is a very important night for you—far from how you normally spent a saturday night. you were dressed in a brand new dress, wore more than your everyday makeup, and actually put effort into making sure your hair was styled. your skin was buzzing and—
oh my god. oh my god. did you—did they just call your name?
"congratulations," said the woman next to you, reaching for your hand and shaking it. you blink at her and sit up, completely taken by surprise.
"oh—um—thank you—" you stammer, before she ushered you to stand to take your award, clapping her hands together as she did.
making your way to the stage felt weird, like you weren't in your own body. like—
a booming "YEAH!" resounds from the back of the audience, followed by frantic applause and borderline inappropriate hollering. "THAT'S MY GIRL!"
"oh my god, atsumu," you mutter, pressing your hands to your face.
you vaguely hear him proudly tell someone, "we're getting married!" and that makes your face break out into a smile so wide that it kind of hurt.
the announcer at the stage welcomed you with a handshake, gently positioning you to take a photo. you take the award with a smile and a polite bow, before straightening and speaking into the mic.
"thank you so much for this award," you start.
"YEAH, BABY!" atsumu yells from the back, and the crowd bursts out into laughter. "YOU DESERVE IT!"
you let out a laugh. "um, it's been a long journey to get to this point, but truth be told i wouldn't be standing here without the help of my team. i don't think i would've gotten as far as i did without them—"
the angry response was quick. "DON'T SELL YOURSELF SHOR—OW! THAT HURT, MOTHERF—!"
the crowd once again bursts into laughter, and you catch your face with one hand and try to calm yourself. osamu had sat next to him; he probably punched atsumu in an effort to temper the embarrassment. you understood, though. you're beyond ecstatic and touched your fiancé was here to support you, but this was starting to get mildly embarrassing...
"um, yeah, anyway," you say, trying to compose yourself, "um, again, thank you so much for this award. as theodore roosevelt said, 'the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.' and i'm very lucky to have my team who feels the same way."
"I LOVE YOU, BABY!" atsumu yells, and you hold in a laugh.
you feel like you can end your speech here, as the crowd already applauds, but you decided: fuck being embarrassed.
"and of course," you say, "i'd also like to thank my wonderful fiancé and japan's number one setter, miya atsumu. thank you for always being the best teammate, in love and in life." you raise the award. "i love you."
you can almost see him at the back, practically standing on his seat as he applauds louder than anyone in the room. you can imagine osamu, sinking further down into his own seat in utter humiliation.
after the ceremony, atsumu collects you into his arms and twirls you around. "congratulations, baby!"
you hug him. "thank you, atsumu." when he sets you down, you smile at osamu. "thanks for coming with him."
"i am never doing this again," he says flatly.
atsumu grins and loops an arm around your shoulders. "you're just jealous you're single as fu—OW, stop fucking hitting me!"
synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.
wc. ~2k
— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️
The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.
His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.
You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.
Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you.
It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.
However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.
It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.
And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.
For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.
When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.
You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.
"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.
"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.
"Stop."
He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.
"Quit it, Shin!"
"You'll hurt yourself!"
He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.
No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.
Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.
Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?
That night, you don't sleep in his room.
You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.
He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat.
"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.
"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.
His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.
"Be kind, Shinsuke."
"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.
She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.
"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"
"..."
Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.
Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?
The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.
He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.
"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)
His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.
It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.
One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.
Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.
The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.
Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.
For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.
Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.
He should have known that some things never change.
"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."
Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.
You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)
"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."
Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.
It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.
It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.
"I hate you, Shin."
"No y’don't."
"I do."
"No. You don't."
"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."
He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.
Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.
"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."
Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.
Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.
You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"
Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.
There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.
"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."
His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.
"M'super cold."
"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.
You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.
He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.
Be kind, Shinsuke.
When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?
"Keep me warm, Shin."
He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.
He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.
The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.
"...'Kay."
Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.
I'm on my hands and knees begging you to kiss me
When I'm not around, do you even miss me?
I'm so tired of having self-respect
Let's do something I'll regret
⭅ back to m.list
•┈••✦ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐩…
y/n on the verge of a mental breakdown: maybe making some kind of list would fix me...
y/n showered before Osamu and was genuinely impressed that he does NOT use 12-in-1 body wash but proper high brand products
of course she went through every bathroom cabinet
and each kitchen cabinet afterwards
this was all after she stood frozen for like five minutes in the hallway after Akaashi's text
Osamu gave her the tour through the apartment, they took one glance at the bed together and y/n was like "absolutely not" and insisted on the couch
not because the bed looked unappealing (quite the opposite) but because she saw herself never getting up ever again once she slipped under the covers
and because she doesn't trust her 2AM soju self
4AM soju self however...
Yukie, Makki & Sunarin had definitely more than just a bottle of soju
Makki multitasking king (carrying Yukie over his shoulder out of the club so the bouncer doesn't while simultaneously making sure y/n is getting her pep talk)
Osamu already ate like half of the cake hunched over the kitchen sink (so he doesn't have to use a plate)
y/n definitely checked him out while he did and thought of peach recipes
Osamu was not able to focus on anything while y/n was in the shower. just sat there head in his hands and trying to keep his composure, poor guy
pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader
summary : he thought time had extinguished any silly little feelings he'd had for you. that was way back in high school anyways. why would they linger when he didn't have you around to remind him?
cw : just pure fluff, very self indulgent, kinda boring but idc, heavy pining, timeskip, set in 2016, flashbacks, reader is a uni dropout (lowkey me venting about dropping out lol), mild cursing, no use of y/n
word count : 3.5k
He couldn’t help how his looks always used to linger — a generous gesture he had only spared you.
It wasn’t news to Tobio that he was notorious for being unapproachable. He had a permanent frown stamped on his forehead that always gave the impression that he was in no mood to interact with anyone. And if someone had been possessed with the spirit of engaging in small talk, he would keep his answers short and to the point. If the topic didn’t interest him, he saw no reason why he would waste his energy on it.
Eventually people just stopped trying, leaving him to live in his exclusive bubble where volleyball was the only thing that mattered — and that was enough for him.
However, you decided to go against the stream, ignoring the pinched eyebrows and standoffish demeanour.
It wasn’t anything big, but you just spared him something as simple as a smile. If he accidentally locked eyes with you across the classroom, or you passed each other in the halls, your lips would curl into the kindest smile before going on with your day.
At first he had thought you must have mistaken him for someone else, because why would you smile at him? You never really talked to each other, falling into the roles of simply being classmates.
But the tiny smiles continued, clearly meant for him. And what was probably just a meaningless act of kindness to you, had heat creep up his neck and colour his cheeks in dusty pink. Eventually he developed the tiniest hallway crush, eyes shyly seeking you out as he impatiently waited for you to catch him.
That’s where his courage stopped however. He knew he would never be brave enough to ever initiate a conversation, based on the few times words were exchanged between you and his mouth would completely dry out. You could come over to ask the most casual question of “do you have a pen I could borrow?”, and when he muttered a shy no, you simply went on to ask the next person, thinking nothing more of it.
Tobio would churn over the interaction for hours, hindsight supplying him with all the possible answers he could have given you.
Three years of a childish crush eventually came to an end when graduation rolled around. When separated, your smiles simply ceased to exist in his life and it was like a fog had lifted. He left Karasuno, and the crush evaporated into nothingness and he grew out of the childish infatuation.
That’s what he thought at least.
Right now, that very smile that had his heart race was staring back at him, identical to how he remembered it — turns out his infatuation had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with you.
Your deadpanned expression twisted into one of pleasant surprise when you spotted him. “Kageyama Tobio, as I live and breathe!”
Maybe he had always had a tiny glimmer of hope he would eventually run into you again — that being said, he was not prepared for that time to be now. Last he heard, you were basking in the glorious university life in Tokyo, attending some prestigious education he could only imagine getting into. You weren’t supposed to stand behind the counter of the quaint convenience store, much like you had done when you were sixteen.
What was even more unexpected was how you knew his name. Your interactions throughout your acquaintance had been so few and far between, he had just assumed you knew him as ‘that volleyball guy’ — but hearing his name spoken in the tune of your voice, travelling in cheerful waves, had his heart beat a little faster.
Despite his frozen stature, he let his eyes take in the scenery of you sat behind the counter. Your shoulders were close under your ears, the corporate fleece doing little to shield out the gushing cold air that occupied the store.
As unflattering as the white light above might have been, it did little to diminish your appearance which was prettier than he recalled — you looked very much like yourself, just slightly different. Every feature had turned more defined, the childlike curves slowly fading with time.
“There’s a face I didn’t think I’d see any time soon.”
Swallowing his nerves, praying his flushed cheeks wasn’t beyond obvious, he placed his items on the surface in front of you.
“Could say the same.” He wished he was brave enough to look at your face, wanting to take in all the subtle changes to your appearance. But he didn’t dare let his eyes rest on you for more than a few moments at a time, redirecting his attention to the rather interesting products he was purchasing, impatiently waiting for his heart to settle so he could act like a normal human being.
“Thought you were busy being a big shot volleyball player,” you teased, the obnoxious beeping of you scanning his items ringing in his ears. “What are you doing back home?”
He cleared his throat, hoping it would bring back some steadiness to it. “Just visiting,” nodding carefully as the words tumbled awkwardly out of him.
As he paid for his items, he tried to let his innocent urges control him and tilt his head to look at you — he had to greet the embarrassed redness to his cheeks like an old friend when he saw you already had your eyes focused on him.
“Are you in town for long?” You asked as you handed him the bagged groceries, your fingers brushing against his in a featherlight touch. It was so modest, he wasn’t even sure you felt it — he most certainly did.
“Just a few days.”
“That’s nice. A break from your hectic schedule.”
“I’ll still practice.”
Your smile widened as you pulled your sleeves over your hands, folding your arms and leaning forward on the counter. “Yeah, guess I kinda knew that.”
He felt so stupid, ogling you with big eyes as he racked his brain for all that he knew of small talk, and yet he blanked completely.
“Guess the life of a pro athlete never stops,” you said as you checked your wristwatch, probably waiting for the time to strike eleven so you could close up.
“No, not really.”
He sensed an awkward silence sneak in on the conversation, and he so desperately did not want it to end. And he spotted the slightest betrayal in your expression when your smile wavered for a split second — and he was convinced it was because you thought he was being weird.
With this opportunity served on a silver platter, he wanted to prove he wasn’t as socially inapt as he came across to be.
“You’re in Tokyo now, right?”
“Well, yes, technically,” you chuckled, undisclosed information hiding in your answer. It was uncontrollable how he quirked an eyebrow in confusion, though he quickly smoothened it in hopes he didn’t come across as rude. “Guess I’m home visiting as well. For a while.”
“And do you like it? Tokyo?”
“It’s definitely more my pace.”
That confirmed his suspicions, possessing a lively personality that seemed too big for this small town. He had always found you to have a soothing type of vibrancy that filled every room you walked into.
And your energy was infectious. He was still anxious beyond belief, but somewhere inside him he could sense that your presence had a calming effect on him. It possessed him with a flash of courage when he said “it’s nice seeing you again.”
You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise at his unexpected line, and for a moment he was sure he had messed up. He clenched his fists, waiting for you to laugh at him or tell him off.
He didn’t expect your smile to return, reigniting the butterflies once again. “Yeah,” you spoke softly, “yeah, you too.” The smile remained and the cute crinkles by your eyes deepened.
The conversation was once more drifting towards a close, and this time Tobio didn’t think he had it in him to resurrect it. He took a deep breath and presented you with a tight lipped smile, mumbling a quiet “see ya,” before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
He only had time to place his palm against the cool glass before you called his name. “Hey, Kageyama,” capturing his attention, eyebrows narrowed as he waited for your next words. “I close up in like ten minutes. Wanna walk me home?”
What? Had he heard you right?
You sunk your teeth cutely into your bottom lip, a tiny bit amused by how visibly his mind was racing to comprehend your request. “I would love to catch up more.”
His shoulders raised, as if this wasn’t the most stressful interaction he could ever remember being in, “sure.”
You gave him a look, one he couldn’t quite deduce the meaning of, while there was a sprinkle of mischief in your pursed smirk.
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket so his nerves wouldn’t spill out in anxious fidgeting, while you started all your closing routines.
As subtly as he managed, he kept his attention on you, standing behind the register, counting the change as you quietly hummed along to the melody coming from the cheap radio behind you. Consuming his mind was the thought that you seems to fit perfectly into the impression he had created of you back in school — kind, generally keeping a smile on your face, really just trying to enjoy the day that was today.
Your head tilted down to check your wristwatch again as you let out a deep exhale, ridding yourself of the strain caused from the closing shift before you disappeared down one of the isles.
Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he was still trying to mentally prepare himself for the walk home — he was probably never again going to get the chance to prove to you that he wasn’t as socially constipated and egocentric like everyone thought he was.
The lights shut off, and you emerged again, having changed out of the uniform and into a black hoodie. “Finally,” your head fell back playfully in light exasperation, hands rummaging through your bag before you pulled out your keys, “staying open until eleven on a Saturday should be considered a crime. There’s not a soul present the last hour.”
Tobio walked out the door first, and without even thinking about it, he simply held the door open for you. He had just acted on pure instinct, and didn’t reflect on it until you flashed him another one of your charming grins. As you mumbled quiet gratitudes, he spun his head away and retracted further into the neck of his jacket — if you were to look directly at him, you would definitely be able to see the generous flush spreading across his face.
“So, Kageyama Tobio,” you said nonchalantly, spinning the keys around your finger before tossing them in your bag again, “the olympics. Quite the achievement.”
“Thank you.”
You chuckled as you startled to fiddle with the packaging of a protein bar. “Never took you to be so humble,” you teased.
Turning to look at you again, he let his eyes be led by the protein bar heading for your mouth, before landing on your lips — your plump, glossy lips that looked so extremely soft. It wasn’t until you’d finished chewing and started talking again he was able to catch himself staring and avert his gaze back to the path ahead.
“I mean, from what I’ve seen of you on the court, it’s not the first word I would use to describe you.”
“You’ve seen me play?”
A deeper laugh escaped you, one that reactively caused a smile to grow on his face — he quickly wiped it away, too scared to lean into the feeling. “Of course I have. Several. Always having us at the edge of our seats. But you-“ you cut yourself off, pointing the bar in your hand at him.
Did you even have a clue what you were doing to him? His breath hitching in his throat, tense shoulders stiffening his arms when you so abruptly stepped ahead to walk backwards while always able to look at him.
“You, mister, got pride filling your every fibre when playing.”
Eyes widened at your compliment — because that’s what it was, a compliment. Not a comment with rude undertones, not a snarky statement to piss him off, but genuine admiration for his craft.
“You think so?”
“No, I know so. It’s quite obvious when looking at you.”
“Been looking at me quite a lot, have you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
This time he surrendered to the urge to flash you a smile. It was a reserved one, however, barely able to spot how the corner of his lips tilted upwards — cute.
“Guess it’s not too long until you head for Rio, right?” You asked as you took another bite.
“In a couple of months,” he retracted his hands from his pockets to clutch around the strap of his bag. “Kind of a wonder they let me visit home.”
“Yeah, would think they’d have you locked up in the gym until you leave,” and you chucked again, a sound he quickly realised he really liked to hear.
He cleared his throat, slowly stepping into a more confident role. “When are you heading back to Tokyo?”
Your steps came to a halt, and he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked under the warm light from the street lamps, he nearly missed the uncertainty that traveled across your face.
Eventually it seemed you reached a conclusion, opening your mouth. “I don’t know, to be honest. Soon hopefully.”
“Studies going well?”
“No,” you hesitated, forcing a laugh. “In fact, they’re not going at all.” You could tell by the look on his face he was confused. “I dropped out.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You didn’t know why it had so easily slipped past your tongue. Usually you had a hard time admitting it out loud, feeling the weighing sensation of disappointment from everyone you told.
However, there was something about Tobio that had you fall into a sense of comfort you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fact that he was someone who wasn’t a complete stranger to your life, yet unfamiliar enough that he felt unrelated to everything going on.
“Do you regret it?”
It wasn’t the question you expected. People usually wanted to know why — why would you do that, and what were you to do now? Would you manage to find a job no when you had strayed from your original plan?
You let the question linger in the air for a moment before you answered, “no. I don’t.”
His chest raised as he took a deep breath, a welcoming and warm smile greeting you, one that was wider than the one he flashed you earlier. “Good.”
It was one word — just one word, yet it was loaded with a sense of understanding you had barely received when sharing your life changing news. It had you purse your lips to contain the overwhelming smile that was about to overtake your entire face.
The eye contact was intense, heart pounding a little harder by how surprisingly comfortable it felt, filling you with giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while.
“You know,” you cleared your throat as you turned your back to him and started walking again. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” It only took him a few seconds to catch up and walk along side you again. “You’re quite the character, Kageyama.”
He scoffed, pretending like what you said didn’t make his heart flutter. “Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t know, I always just assumed you would be like how you are when you play,” you sighed. “You’re so sure of yourself when you’re tossing. Very serene, if you will. Unless you were yelling at that little guy. Damn, what was his name? The ginger?”
Amusement twisted his expression. Not only because you knew Hinata as ‘the ginger’, but also because you had known his name, but not remembered his old teammate’s name despite him being considerably more outgoing than himself — Tobio was almost certain you’d had more conversations with Hinata than you had ever had with him.
“You talking about Hinata?”
“Yes! Him!” Excitement spilling out in your gestures. “Besides the point. My friend had a crush on one of your teammates, so she sometimes dragged me along to spy on your practices.”
He was slowly growing tired of how you had the blush lurking under his skin almost permanently, when he once again felt it approaching as he waited for the rest of your story. For the short time you had been walking, he had managed to find a somewhat steady presence, but the little confidence he grasped onto was hanging on by a thin thread. Whatever you were to say next threatened to sever it.
“There was a handful of times I witnessed you scream at the poor guy,” you laughed, nudging an elbow to his side.
Maybe he could latch onto the pleasant vibrations of your laugh to maintain his peace, trying not to let the memories of his outbursts crush him.
“It was a refreshing sight.”
Come on, Kageyama, give into the banter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you come with quite loaded statements?” He hoped he managed to smear his voice with sarcasm in order to hide the insecurity that tainted his words.
“Sorry,” trailing off with a soothing giggle. “Bad habit — what I mean is, it expanded the impression I had of you. You were always so quiet, minding your own business, much like you are now. When you’re playing, however, you’re emotional, if that makes sense?” You said with an awkward chuckle.
Was he dreaming? Was his ears playing a trick on him? Had you really been doing such an analysis of his character, enough to form an opinion that went beyond the impression he gave to most people?
He turned to look at you, locking eyes with you immediately — there was something so tender in your expression, gaze seemingly holding a deeper message he was eager, desperate, to unveil. But he struggled, too wrapped up in how your vibrant grin had transformed into a shy tilt. He couldn’t quite describe it, but it felt more genuine somehow — emotional, maybe, as you’d put it.
“Anyways,” breaking the eye contact, feeling an unfamiliar burning sensation tingle up your neck. You weren’t used to being flustered like this. “Yelling at Hinata, proved you’re more of a hothead than you let on,” trying to fall back to a casual tension, ignoring how the recent eye contact with his captivating blue eyes had stirred up the tiniest whirlwind inside you.
“Never thought you were so observant,” he quipped, and much like you, he tried to smother the boyish excitement you had caused.
“What? D’you go around thinking I was too daft or something?” There was a very evident joking manner to your tone, but didn’t seem like he picked up on it.
“What? No! That’s not-“
“I’m just playing with you, Kageyama,” you laughed, true melody to his ears.
“I just meant… of me.” He kept his eyes locked ahead, knowing his face was about to completely succumb to the blush that was so easily brought to the surface around you.
“Yeah, well,” he heard your deep sigh, “I don’t know. You stuck out to me, despite you trying your very best not to.”
All his experiences regarding you from his school days suddenly intensified — everything was put in a new light with this revolutionary information. No wonder he had found himself falling for you when there was an unspoken connection he wasn’t even aware of.
“This is me!” Your tone changed immediately, the sentimental energy evaporating into nothing but a memory. “Thanks for walking me home.”
He was fortunate enough to receive another of your characteristic smiles, those would probably always have an hypnotising effect on him, as you backed up towards the entryway of your house.
“My pleasure,” he said, trying his best to mirror the earnestness of your affection.
You had pulled out your keys again, “and I’ll make sure to tune in when you’re in Rio. Even if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”
“Maybe you’ll see some of that emotion you were talking about.”
“Oh, I’m betting on it,” you opened the door. “Good night, Kageyama.”
“You know,” he was quick to interject before you had the opportunity to disappear through the door. He swallowed his fear, “you can call me Tobio.”
A smile. “Good night. Tobio.” You held his gaze a second, and you were out of his sight.
tags : @hiraethwa
an : okay i am not so happy with it... the words were working against me on this one. might be bc i'm not familier with writing for hq yet but eventually. i have more hope in my next hq fic. it is also v boring, but it's more of a venting fic for how i feel about dropping out (it comes in waves yk)
promise.
woah. i never thought i'd be putting out works so quickly again, but here we are. back to back, for @angstober. anyway. here is the third angsty fic in this little thing i'm doing. hope you all like it!
“what do you want to wish for?”
oikawa tōru asked, his voice a soft whisper against the night sky as the two of you sprawled out on the rooftop of your home. it felt like a scene pulled from a dream, the kind of adventure only found in childhood fantasies. giggles bubbled from your lips as you had climbed out of your window, heart racing with the thrill of rebellion, helping him scale the side of your house like an agile cat burglar.
the world below was muted, but up here, the stars seemed to dance, twinkling brightly as if they were in on your secret. you both lay there, side by side, under the vast expanse of night, the air filled with the sweet scent of freedom. though the sky was an infinite canvas of beauty, your gaze was drawn to oikawa’s moonlit features—his hair shimmering like stardust, his smile a beacon of warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.
“i don’t know. maybe… being friends with you forever?” you replied, the words tumbling out in a rush, your voice bubbling with innocent delight. “this is kinda fun! i want to do things like this all the time for my whole life.”
you giggled, feeling like a child again, wide-eyed and wonderstruck at twelve years old. oikawa grinned at you, that infectious smile that had the power to light up the darkest of nights. he had promised you then, with all the certainty of youth, that he would always be by your side. that nothing would ever change between the two of you, that your bond would remain untouched by the swirling chaos of the world.
in that moment, nestled under the cosmos, everything felt perfect. like the stars had conspired to grant your wish, sealing it in the universe's embrace as you both lay there, suspended in time.
but as the seasons turned, so did everything else. you grew older, and with that maturity came the inevitability of change. oikawa tōru, your childhood companion, blossomed under the weight of ambition, his dreams stretching far beyond the horizons you once shared. alongside his aspirations, his ego swelled, filling every space between you with a shadow of what once was.
he broke his promise a total of five times—each one a quiet dagger to your heart. five moments that etched themselves into your memory, forever lingering like echoes of laughter on a summer breeze.
the first promise shattered like glass was the one where he vowed to always stick by your side. you never imagined that the flickering flame of fame would ignite a fire so fierce it would consume him whole. oikawa was yours; he was your tōru, the boy who knew his limits and cherished the bond you shared. but the allure of the spotlight was intoxicating, and soon it became clear that he loved the limelight more than he loved the friendship you had built.
you had always envisioned him as a star, but this was a different kind of brightness—a dazzling glow that captivated all, leaving you standing in the shadows. the ooh's and aah's of admirers surrounded him like a halo, and while it stung at first, you learned to tolerate it, just as iwaizumi had. after all, the two of you loved oikawa in your own ways, even if those affections took different forms.
you loved him with a quiet intensity, a flame that flickered softly in the background, while iwaizumi’s was a roaring fire of loyalty and friendship. yet, it still hurt to watch the setter receive countless confessions, to see him chase fleeting romances with girls whose names you struggled to remember. each time he embraced someone new, you felt a pang of loss, but you buried that pain deep within, telling yourself that his life was his own. you had no rights over him, no claim on the heart that seemed to drift further away with each passing day.
in those moments, you stood on the sidelines, a spectator to a performance that was supposed to include you but had become a solo act. it was a bittersweet reality, one that twisted your insides with every laugh he shared with someone else, every moment that felt just out of reach.
“you know he’s a little slow on the uptake, right? he’s not the brightest when it comes to feelings. you’ll be fine, don’t worry,” iwaizumi often reassured you, trying to soften the blow. but deep down, both of you knew the truth: the great oikawa tōru would never see you the way you saw him.
the second promise he broke was to always remember you. once high school began, oikawa seemed to forget you, as if you had become invisible. even though you’d carved out a place in his life, it felt like you were no longer a priority. being the manager of his volleyball club wasn’t enough; you needed him to be as present in your life as he was in your thoughts.
he forgot you time and again. plans to meet at the local diner vanished as he canceled for a date with someone else. those fleeting encounters always ended in disappointment for him, as the demands of volleyball crushed any chance of a real relationship. even simple invitations to hang out with friends were brushed aside in favor of practice.
it was like this with him. distance that you loathed and his presence that you loved. someone who had become unreachable so slowly, it felt like poison flooding your veins and oxygen healing your mind at the same time.
"you love oikawa, don’t you?" mattsun’s voice broke through the chatter one day as the three of you walked behind the rest of the group. your heart raced, eyes widening as you grabbed his tricep tightly, whispering urgently, “don’t say it out loud! what if someone hears?”
“dude, everybody knows,” hanamaki chimed in with a laugh, “it’s just oikawa who’s clueless.”
the revelation lingered in your mind for days. was your affection for tōru really that transparent, so obvious that the whole world could see it—except him? the thought weighed heavily on you. did he purposely ignore the signs, or was he genuinely too dense to notice? it was a confusing puzzle you couldn’t seem to solve, even after turning it over in your mind countless times.
the third promise he broke to you was the one that stung the most: that he would always make time for you. as the weeks turned into months, you noticed how his busy schedule seemed to consume him, leaving little room for your friendship. he used to carve out moments for you, laughing and sharing secrets, but those moments had dwindled to almost nothing. still, you clung to the hope that he would realize how much you meant to him and return to your side.
the relentless teasing from makki and mattsun didn’t help either. their playful jabs seemed to dig deeper, amplifying the distance between you and oikawa. it was clear that their antics only annoyed him more, and each laugh felt like a fresh reminder of how things used to be.
you found yourself questioning where everything had gone wrong. you replayed every interaction in your mind, convinced that you had done everything right. you had been the dutiful friend, standing by him during his insecurities, especially when he struggled with that junior a few years back. you had supported him through thick and thin, cheering him on during his victories and comforting him during his defeats. so why was this bitterness directed solely at you? the confusion and hurt gnawed at you, leaving you feeling like a ghost in a friendship that once felt so vibrant and alive.
the fourth was that you would be important to him, always.
you felt as if you had faded into the background, no longer even a side character in the unfolding story of his life. gone were the moments when he would light up at the sight of you; now, he barely spared you a glance. sometimes, during practice, he might meet your eyes for a fleeting second when you called out corrections or offered advice to the team. other times, when you passed out water bottles, his hand would brush against yours for a split second before he flinched away, as if your touch were something toxic.
the realization hit hard: you must have done something wrong, but the weight of that unknown burden only deepened your confusion. what had changed? what had driven a wedge between you?
when you confided in mattsun about oikawa's reaction, he refused to believe you. makki simply laughed, teasing you for being "delusional," as if your feelings were unfounded. but you knew what you saw—how oikawa's face had briefly twisted in disgust before he pulled his hand away. it felt like a betrayal, like a silent confirmation of everything you feared.
that’s when makki devised a plan to lock you in the broom closet with oikawa, insisting it would clear the air between you two. you warned them against it, certain that oikawa would be furious, but their laughter drowned out your concerns.
the next day, as you were putting away cleaning supplies, tōru's voice suddenly broke through the mundane silence behind you. “makki said you wanted to speak to me about something- hey! open the goddamn door!” his voice boomed, frustration evident in every syllable as he pounded his fist against the wood.
your heart raced as you stood there, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing in a mix of panic and disbelief. finally, you managed to reply, “they did this on purpose. just let it be. mattsun will open the door in a bit.” your voice was barely a whisper, uncertainty coursing through you as the reality of the situation settled in.
“but why? this is just stupid and annoying, and i really don’t want to be here. i have to be somewhere right now,” he complained, groaning as he slid down the wall and settled onto the floor. the weight of his irritation hung heavily in the air, making it hard to breathe.
you stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. biting your lip, you mustered the courage to ask, “do you hate me?”
“what?” oikawa blinked in surprise, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “the heck does that mean?”
“it’s a simple question,” you pressed, determination lacing your words. “do you hate me?”
“no?” he replied, shrugging as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “i don’t think of you enough to feel anything.”
the bluntness of his words hit you like a physical blow. it stung more than you’d anticipated, a sharp pang of hurt that settled deep in your chest. in that moment, you realized the days when he would boast about being your best friend—someone who understood every nook and cranny of your life—were truly over.
here you were, still gazing at him with the belief that he held the strings that commanded the universe, while he seemed to regard you as an afterthought. you felt invisible, like a ghost haunting the periphery of his life, and the realization that he didn’t spare you a single thought throughout his day crushed your spirit.
“right,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips. “sorry I asked.”
he shrugged, nonchalant, and you called out, “mattsun? open the door, please?”
the door swung open immediately, and you heard the thudding footsteps of your friends dashing away, eager to avoid oikawa’s wrath. stepping out of the broom closet, you felt a heavy weight settle on your chest, and you walked away before he could say anything, needing space to breathe.
maybe makki was right. maybe you were delusional.
the fifth and final promise—or perhaps lie—was that he would always be by your side and never hurt you, no matter what.
now, here you were, standing behind him in the gym after they had lost to karasuno. oikawa kept serving the ball over and over, pretending to receive it again and again until he could finally get it right. he couldn’t understand what he did wrong, and the tension hung thick in the air. iwaizumi was there with you, attempting to coax the setter into stopping, but nothing worked. all you could do was watch as he spiraled into frustration, destroying himself with each failed attempt, wracked with the belief that he wasn’t trying hard enough—that he wasn’t good enough.
“oikawa, that’s enough!” you called, stepping toward him and grabbing his arm gently. “come on, let’s go home. it’s dark out-”
“let go of me!” he shouted, jerking his arm away. in his sudden movement, he lost his balance and fell hard onto the gym floor. a yelp escaped his lips, and without a second thought, you crouched down to his level, instinctively reaching out to help him.
“are you okay? come on, let’s get to the nurse’s office. they probably still have some medicine or sprays-”
“i don’t need you parading over me like a fucking basket case!” he yelled, the frustration spilling over in his voice. “i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. i’m not a loser!”
“oi, watch it,” iwaizumi’s voice cut through the tension, firm yet concerned. “be glad someone’s still trying to help you.”
“well, i hate them! i hate them for pitying me, and i hate them for sticking around in my life like a fucking housefly!” he snapped, gritting his teeth as he struggled to stand. you knew he had likely sprained his knee in the fall, and you reached out, grabbing his shoulder to steady him as he wobbled. your lips pressed into a thin line, resolute but unreadable.
“let’s go to the nurse’s office,” you said, your voice devoid of any emotion. iwaizumi stepped closer, ready to take your place, but you shook your head.
“i got this. don’t worry. you pack up; I’ll get his knee wrapped and go home.”
the resolve in your voice echoed in the gym, a quiet determination amid the chaos surrounding you. oikawa stared at you, uncertainty flickering across his features, but you knew you couldn’t let him fall apart. not now.
you walked alongside him, your grip tightening around his arm whenever he faltered, fighting to maintain his balance. as you reached the nurse's office, you pushed the door open, the quiet space greeting you with a sense of foreboding. you knew the room would be empty at this hour, so you guided oikawa to sit on one of the beds, his weight leaning heavily against you.
you stepped toward the cabinet, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached up to retrieve the relief sprays and bandages. when you turned back, you found oikawa staring at you, disbelief etched across his features as you approached. slowly, you knelt before him, examining his knee, which was already starting to bruise ominously.
“why are you doing this? i just said i hate you,” he muttered, his voice wavering. you didn’t reply, keeping your lips pressed together in a straight line as you focused on the ugly discoloration forming on his skin. gently, you sprayed the cooling relief over the bruise, and he flinched at the sensation, a wince crossing his face.
the silence in the room felt unbearable, an agonizing pause hanging between you like a chasm. finally, you whispered, “i’ll bandage you up, and then iwa-san will take you home.”
“say something!” he snapped, his voice piercing through the stillness and making you clench your jaw. you finally met his gaze, frustration bubbling to the surface. “what the hell do you even want me to say? you don’t have enough time in your day to think of me while i was in love with you all along! and now i’ve just found out you hate me when i don’t even know what the fuck i’ve done. so pray tell, what exactly do you want me to say to you? what do you think is left?”
he blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, before mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. irritation flared within you, and you raised an eyebrow. “hello? i don’t have superhuman hearing. you’re going to have to speak up if you want me to hear what you have to say.”
“i thought you were different!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room. the force of his words caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise. before you could respond, he continued. “i thought our relationship would stay the same, but you started liking me like everyone else. i thought you weren’t any different.”
“you’re a dumb fucking idiot,” you retorted, stepping back from him, your heart racing. incredulous laughter bubbled up from your chest, a mix of disbelief and anger. “are you serious? you made me think you hated me just because i fell in love with you? oikawa, what is wrong with you?”
“i don’t know, i just—”
“did you ever stop and think about the fact that i never did anything about my feelings because i respected your goals in life?” you challenged, your eyes narrowing. your frustration turned into sharp words. “did you ever use your brain? or do you only pretend to have one in front of other people?”
he blinked at you, the realization dawning on his face as he struggled to formulate an apology. but you shook your head, cutting him off. “save it. i’m done with you. and i’m done with this stupid club. i quit.”
you walk toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if the weight of your emotions is anchoring you down. for a fleeting moment, a part of you wishes he would call out to you, that the twelve-year-old boy who once convinced you to climb onto your roof to stargaze would surface again, pleading for you to stay. but that part of him is gone, replaced by the distance that has grown between you.
you pause briefly at the entrance, your hand lingering on the doorknob. a sigh escapes your lips, a mix of relief and sorrow, before you finally push the door open and step into the hallway. the quiet thud of the door closing behind you resonates in the stillness, a finality that feels like an unspoken farewell.
as you walk away, the realization sinks in: oikawa tōru was never yours to begin with. he was a comet streaking across the sky, brilliant and untouchable, while you were left on the ground, staring up at him in awe, wishing for a connection that was never meant to be.
hinata’s best mornings are the ones spent with you.
the waking up next to you, feeling you next to him, watching the way the sun bounces off of the face he’ll never get tired of looking at. god, you’re beautiful.
though if he had to pick, his favorite would be the toothpaste kisses. there’s something so intimate about a routine, it’s a display of time spent together and habits intertwined—two lives become one. sweet sweet shoyo feels his heart clench at the sight of you, trudging over to kiss minty suds off of your lips.
an orange wooden stool hides under the sink, because he brushes quick and you take your time. he thrifted it last summer just so he could wait ‘till you’re done. and when hinata’s not sitting on it, his speaker is. the one gifted to him after he won his first game—blasting happy songs and happy songs only; one thing your house will never have is an angry husband.
maybe he’s a little too sentimental about the mundane. about the way your hips bump against each other’s as the music plays, or how when you go down the chore list, ninety-percent of it ends up being his burden instead of yours.
“I want to be someone you can rely on.”
about sweeping dust off of the floor, finding one of your long lost hair ties, keeping it on his wrist for later, for when you might need it—for safekeeping (there’s a collection growing there).
about tucking you in where you’ve found a sanctuary on the couch, gently draping a blanket over you and nudging your forehead with his nose.
about trying to walk away, to get back on track, but you pull him down by the bicep, and now he’s on top of you, you’re both laughing again, he’s smiling into breaths that ghost over your neck before his kisses do.
about how he’s never felt more wanted and needed than he has around you. he loves the way he feels about himself with you. about being around you in general, and wanting to always be, for the rest of his life. if it works out that way.
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
Hello! Can you do an angst to comfort fic with Sakusa x yn or atsumu x yn. Thank you! Sorry if there really isn't a plot, I can't think of one.
WANT TO (want you)
atsumu thinks he can’t face your parents ever again. you try to convince him otherwise.
slight angst to fluff, wc: 1.2k, pre-ts, gn reader, not proof read
petty arguments with atsumu are frequent. from which sushi place was the best to which side of the bed he would take when cuddling you before your parents kick him out. it’s all stupid, atsumu knows, but it’s what builds you two up, he likes to think. so, when the topic of him meeting your parents come up, atsumu is a little too quick to refuse which makes you a little irritated. simple conversation turns into a dull argument, and dull argument turns into the stubborn atsumu miya you know.
“that was months ago, ‘tsumu. i keep telling you, they’re not gonna kick you out again !”
“hell yes they’re gon’ kick me out ! i looked like a brainless idiot when i first met yer ma ‘n pa !” you had to pause for a moment and silently agree to your boyfriends words. he did make a fool of himself the first time he met your father, breaking one of your mothers favorite pair of collectible shot glasses, ones with little designs of vacation spots the family would go to. she loved to collect them, and your pretty little boyfriend broke a pair.
you roll your eyes, sighing for which seemed like the hundredth time this whole evening. you shift your weight to one leg and cross your arms, upset and tired of this whole dilemma and it showed clearly on your face.
the kitchen lights in the miya household was the only thing illuminating the space, shining down to cast a soft glow on both you and your boyfriends face. the soft chirping of cicadas filled the momentary quiet and tense atmosphere.
in atsumus eyes, there’s a pretty pout on your lips, one that he itches to kiss off, but his pride is on the line and holds him back. he can’t show up to your house in front of your parents without anything to distract the memory of such an embarrassing moment, he believes. no amount of volleyball medals, boxed fruits, and gifts could fix this.
then, your voice cuts through his rapid thoughts, making him blink at you a few times.
“fine,” you wave off, throwing your hands down to your sides as if in defeat. “have it your way then.” with that, you make your way towards the genkan and quickly slip on your shoes. atsumu remains still in the kitchen, the hairs on the back of his neck rising slightly as he hears the doors close and signal your departure.
“… shit.”
from the list of a few things you hated about your boyfriend, one was about how stupidly stubborn he was. how he always argued that he was right when in reality (and factually), you were the right one. atsumu likes to say that you wouldn’t get this out of anyone else, that he was the only one with this special personality and ability.
so it came to you as a surprise when he showed up in front of your house half past midnight with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers (which you swear you only mentioned a few months ago) in his big, calloused hands.
embarrassment and a hint of guilt— that’s what his face looked like. dark hazel eyes avoiding your gaze as he darts them to the side, thick brows pinched together slightly. one hand slips into the pocket of his sweats as he shuffles his footing slightly, the other pushing the bouquet gently towards you.
“‘tsumu, it’s like, twelve thirty—”
“ma said ‘ta get you flowers.” he mumbles, gaze now fixated on the flowers. he’s not exactly looking at you, but in his peripheral vision, he sees you slowly lift your arms to take the flowers into gentle hands, your fingers brush against his knuckles softly as you do so. atsumu drops his hand as you take it, stuffing it in his pocket and fidgeting slightly.
the rustle of the plastic around the stem of the flower makes him lift his head. there’s a soft, gentle look in your eyes, something that he holds dear and god, if you two weren’t in high school right now, he’d buy a pretty ring and marry you on the spot.
there’s a few moments of silence in the air, the light illuminating your door front flickering once.
“… you didn’t have to.”
“i wanted to.”
“your ma wanted you to.” you correct him and he simply nods and agrees, shaking his stiff head. there’s another wave of silence, cicadas chirping quietly in the distance as you lift your head to meet your boyfriends gaze. he looked like he was glowing, blonde hair shining softly as the lamp light reflects against him. atsumu takes a shaky breath and wets his lips, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he prepares to speak again. atsumus voice is a little dry. low and gentle, contrast to his usual snarky and loud behavior.
“… i want to.”
you blink in confusion. want to what ? it was odd enough for him to show up in the middle of them night, but it was odder for him to just say ‘i want to.’ before you could ask him, he speaks again, finishing his sentence.
“i want to meet your parents again.”
this time, atsumus voice is clearer, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly and the movement in is pockets displayed that he was nervous, reminding you of when he first confessed in that empty classroom a year back. you blink a few times, a soft smile grazing your lips as you let out a dry chuckle.
“thought you didn’t want to.” atsumu irks at your statement, grumbling under his breath as to how he ‘changed his mind’ and how ‘he can change his mind whenever he wants.’ your dry chuckle turns into one of slight amusement, taking a step closer towards him. the bouquet whines in your hand, begging for more attention but you only cup your boyfriends pretty face, climbing up on your tip toes to place a feathery kiss on his chin. you can feel his body stiffen at your angel touch, frustrated brows relaxing as he watches your face come in contact with his.
“i’ll do everything,” he whispers, taking his hands out of his sweats and places his left in your hair while the other cups your face, thumb brushing against your cheeks. “i’ll make reservations for the best restaurant here. i’ll woo yer ma first then go on my knees and beg to yer pa to gimme a second chance.”
heat pricks up in your cheeks as you let of a soft laughter, a lips tugging up into a smile that caressed your face. you shook your head, pretty starlit eyes starring at atsumus.
“it’s okay, ‘tsumu. a small lunch or something would be just fine, trust me.”
this time, atsumu shakes his head, the hand on your cheek trailing down to the hand that cupped his face. he takes your hands into his and intertwines them together.
“lemme do it. i promise you won’t regret anything.” you can feel your legs turn into weak jelly as you hear his words, a goofy, lovesick smile on both your faces. just as you were going to respond to his sweet, smooth words, a voice from inside breaks the intimate moment.
“what’s going on out here ..?”
oh dear, seems like the meeting is going to have to happen sooner than expected ..!!
