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✎ facing your insecurities with kenma

✎ the backburner of gojo satoru ll

✎ neuvillette and the rain

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@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

request by: anon

Kenma's S/O (reader) feeling insecure due to his success in the timeskip. Not in a jealous and spiteful way, but in a "he deserves someone better" kind of way.

the apartment was quiet except for the faint clicking of a controller.

you watched from the couch as kenma sat cross-legged on the floor, golden hair slightly messy, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. even now—years later—he still looked like the same quiet boy who preferred games over crowds.

except, he wasn’t just that anymore.

now he was successful. a CEO. a famous game streamer. someone people admired.

your phone screen lit up again with another notification.

“Kozume Kenma spotted at game convention today!”

“__ CEO continues to dominate the industry.”

there were photos of him speaking at a stage panel. fans crowded around him. some comments not really grabbing your attention—but some below the post made your chest tighten for some odd reason.

“he’s so cool.”

“imagine dating someone like him.”

“who’s his partner? they must be amazing.”

you turned the phone face down. amazing. your reflection in the dark screen felt—painfully average.

kenma deserved someone brilliant. someone impressive. someone who could stand beside him without feeling like a shadow.

your chest tightened. maybe you were just someone who got lucky.

across the room, the clicking stopped. “you’ve been quiet.”

kenma didn’t even look away from the screen when he spoke. your heart skipped. “…just tired.” you muttered. a lie.

kenma finally paused the game and glanced over his shoulder. his catlike eyes narrowed slightly.

“you’re bad at lying.” you forced a small laugh. “am not.”

“you are.”

he set the controller down and slowly stood up before padding over to the couch. without asking, he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. silence lingered.

kenma wasn’t the type to pressure people with questions. he just waited. and that somehow made it harder.

“..kenma,” you murmured. “mm?”

“…do you ever think… you deserve someone better?” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

kenma blinked. once. twice.

“what?”

tour fingers twisted together in your lap. “you’re successful now. everyone admires you. there are so many people who would—”

“you’re doing that thing again.”

you frowned. “what thing?”

“overthinking.”

tou shook your head quickly. “no, I’m serious. I just… sometimes I think you’d be happier with someone more impressive.”

kenma stared at you like you’d just said something completely ridiculous.

“why would I want that?”

“because you could,” you whispered.

the room went quiet again.

kenma leaned back slightly against the couch and looked at the ceiling, thinking. Then he sighed.

“you know,” he said slowly, “when we first met,you were the only person who didn’t treat me weirdly.”

you blinked.

“you didn’t care that I liked games more than people. you didn’t try to drag me to loud parties. you just.. sat next to me and asked what game I was playing.”

your chest tightened. kenma looked at you again.

“and when I started streaming… I almost quit.”

“you did?”

“yeah.”

he looked away, slightly embarrassed. “I hated the attention. It felt like too many eyes on me.”

you remembered those early days. the long nights. the nervous silence before his first big stream. “but you stayed,” you said softly.

kenma nodded. “because you told me something.” his gaze met yours. “you said, ‘you look happiest when you’re playing.’”

your throat felt tight, trying to fight off tears that shouldn’t even be forming.

“so I thought.. if someone sees that and still stays, then maybe it’s okay.” kenma reached over and gently took your hand. his grip was warm and steady.

“you think I need someone ‘better.’” he shook his head.

“but the person who supported me before any of this existed… is already here.” your eyes burned as kenma squeezed your hand lightly.

“I didn’t become successful and then choose you.”

his voice was quiet but firm. “I chose you first.”

a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. kenma panicked slightly. “hey—wait, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” you laughed weakly, wiping your face.

“It’s not bad crying.”

“…good.” he sighed, letting out a soft chuckle, looking relieved.

after a moment, kenma rested his head gently against your shoulder. “you know something?”

“what?”

“you’re the only person I can sit with in silence and not feel tired.” you couldn’t fight off the subtle smile beginning to form on your lips. “and,” he added quietly, “if I dated someone ‘more impressive’, they’d probably make me go outside more.”

you snorted. “exactly. sounds exhausting.” you nudged him lightly.

kenma’s fingers intertwined with yours again. “don’t decide what I deserve,” he murmured. “because I already picked.”

୨୧ sorry for the long hiatus, once again 📝

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

Hello! I've read one of your kenma fics and it was really good :) I was wondering if you could do this concept since I couldn't get it out my head : Kenma's S/O feeling insecure due to his success in the timeskip. Not in a jealous and spiteful way, but in a "he deserves someone better" kind of way.

i am honestly so sorry it look like months to write this, i lit just saw this in my notifications and wondered what app it was and realized it was tumblr oml. anyways, since I now remember that I have a tumblr account, next post will be abt this ❤️

[satvrnsearth]

It was raining the kind of rain kenma liked best—soft, steady, nothing dramatic. the kind that made the world feel smaller, quieter, like everything outside could wait until tomorrow.

you were sprawled on his couch, legs tangled with a blanket you had declared “yours” despite the fact that it technically belonged to him. kenma, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his switch propped on a cushion, didn’t complain. you’d been coming over long enough that you practically had designated territories in his apartment anyway.

“what are you playing?” you asked, voice low, sleepy. rain did that to you—turned you into a cozy puddle of a human.

“hm. New indie puzzle game,” menma murmured without looking up. his thumbs moved with that familiar quiet precision, soft taps and swipes making a rhythm you knew almost as well as his voice. “you’d like it.”

you smiled into the blanket. he said that a lot—*you’d like this.* sometimes it was a game, or a snack, or a video he’d found at three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. but it always meant the same thing: *I thought about you.*

after a moment, he added in a quieter voice, “you can come see… if you want.."

you pushed yourself off the couch with a sleepy groan, shuffling over and draping yourself over his back like a human sweater. kenma didn’t even flinch. he never did anymore. he just tipped his head slightly so you could peek over his shoulder.

the game had soft colors, gentle music. pieces sliding into place one by one. It was calm—just like him.

“you’re good at this,” you murmured into his hair.

kenma’s cheeks pinked faintly. “I’ve only been playing for twenty minutes.”

“yeah, but you’re still good.”

he made a soft noise in his throat, embarrassed but secretly pleased. you could feel it in him, the way he relaxed under your weight, letting you mold against him like the world’s comfiest hoodie.

a puzzle chime sounded. you praised him again. be pretended it didn’t matter, but his ears told on him.

after a little while, he paused the game and turned his head enough for you to see his eyes. “my back’s getting numb,” he whispered.

you started to climb off, but he caught your sleeve. “no—just… come here.”

then he guided you down until you were sitting beside him instead, your shoulders pressed together, your socked feet nudging his knee. he leaned just barely against you, the kind of quiet affection he always gave—small, thoughtful, intentional.

“you can play,” he said, offering you the controller. “If you want. I wanna see how you figure it out.”

you blinked. kenma didn’t offer that often. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to share—it was because gaming was his comfort zone, something he usually kept separate from the chaos of the world. offering the controller felt almost like offering a piece of himself.

so you took it gently, as gently as he had handed it over.

within five minutes, you’d gotten stuck on a puzzle. menma watched in silence, his expression neutral except for the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth whenever you mumbled dramatically at the screen.

“do you want a hint?” he finally asked.

you pouted. “only if it’s a tiny one.”

he leaned in until his shoulder pressed a little firmer against yours. “move the blue tile first.”

you tried it. It worked. you groaned. “ugh, of course it’s the blue tile. you’re a genius.”

kenma’s voice was soft, shy. “you make it more fun.”

the rain pattered softly against the window. the game hummed between you. and kenma, who liked quiet more than anything, let the quiet stretch comfortably.

he let his head drop to your shoulder. you felt his hair brush your cheek.

“I like when you’re here,” he said simply. not dramatic. not flowery. just honest.

you rested your head on his in return. “I like being here.”

kenma reached for the blanket you’d stolen earlier and draped it around both of you, his movements gentle and slightly awkward in a way that somehow made it sweeter.

and just like that, with rain tapping softly outside and his warmth pressed lightly against your side, the world felt perfectly small—just big enough for two.

୨୧ long time no see babiess, so sorry for the long hiatus, been busy 🥺

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

so i've been on a hiatus for six months 'cause college is KILLING me xoxoxoxoxox imisswriting so i'm gonna try and get back to it soon

[satvrnsearth]

suguru geto x gn!reader, fluff, romance, 2006

You weren't expecting much this birthday. It was hot, you were mildly sunburned, and your flip phone had died somewhere between your second text and your mom forgetting what day it was.

So when Suguru Geto called the house phone—yes, the actual landline—and casually said,

“Hey. Come outside. I got you something stupid,”

you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You stepped out, and there he was:

Suguru, in his lazy weekend glory—slouchy black tee, silver chain glinting in the sun, hair tied up in a loose bun with strands framing his face. He had a plastic bag in one hand and an unreadable look on his face.

“Happy birthday, old soul,” he said, tossing you a warm bottle of cola with your name scrawled on the label in messy permanent marker. “It’s 2006, I thought we’d celebrate like it.”

You blinked. “With… soda?”

“And…” He held up two arcade tokens between his fingers. “The real gift.”

Twenty minutes later, you were yelling at a DDR machine, and Suguru was absolutely not following the arrows.

“You’re just stepping on whatever you feel like!” you accused, laughing breathlessly.

“I’m dancing with my soul,” he said with a straight face, before tripping over his own foot.

The old arcade was mostly empty—just flickering lights, forgotten music, and the hum of machines that still worked like magic even after years. Suguru was glowing in the neon colors, grinning every time you beat him at a game and fake-pouting whenever you didn’t let him win "just once."

By the end, you had a paper bag full of silly ticket prizes, a blue bouncy ball, and a cheap ring you “won” because he stuffed 400 tickets into the counter when you weren’t looking.

“Happy birthday,” he said again, this time on the rooftop of a konbini nearby, legs swinging over the edge, two more sodas between you. The sky was turning orange.

You stared at the ring he’d given you—adjustable, plastic, shaped like a star. “This cost you like… what, twenty minutes of pretending to lose?”

He smiled at you with that rare, honest softness.

“Nope. That cost me a whole afternoon of not confessing to you.”

Your breath hitched, just a little.

“…What?”

Suguru looked straight ahead, pretending to study the clouds. But his ears turned the faintest pink. “I thought if I gave you something dumb, I wouldn’t ruin the moment. You’re smiling. I wanted to keep that.”

You were quiet for a while.

Then you held out your pinky.

“For the record,” you said, “if you ever do confess… I’ll probably smile harder.”

He stared at your hand, then gently hooked his pinky with yours.

“I’ll remember that,” he whispered.

And as the sun dipped below the rooftops and the vending machines blinked to life behind you, you realized:

This birthday wasn’t just special. It was a beginning.

୨୧ a little suguru fluff fic in honor of my birthday!! teehee 💌 happy birthday to saturn 🎊

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

neuvillette x gn!reader, fluff, soft angst, emotional intimacy

It always rains when you're gone too long.

You noticed it after the third time. Maybe it was coincidence at first—Fontaine is no stranger to clouds, after all—but the way the skies weep when you leave the city… it feels too precise to be chance.

Too sad to be anything else.

Neuvillette never admits it, of course.

When you return, soaked and shivering at the Opera Epiclese steps, he merely looks up from his desk and says, “You’ve returned. I trust your journey went well?” As if the thunder hadn’t rattled the windows for days.

As if the rain hadn’t fallen like grief.

But his eyes linger a little longer than usual.

And when you reach for the towel he always leaves folded by the door, his hands brush yours—an accidental touch, but warm. Careful.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

You never ask him to name what you already feel in your chest.

That night, the clouds clear.

Neuvillette sits beside you on the marble balcony, overlooking the glimmering canals of Fontaine. His coat drapes over your shoulders, too large but comforting. The air is cool, the world quiet.

For a long time, there’s only silence.

Until he says, quietly, “I apologize for the rain. It can be… stubborn.”

You glance at him. His profile is calm, but there’s a tension in his jaw that betrays something deeper.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you reply, your voice soft. “It made me feel missed.”

He turns to you slowly, almost startled. “Is that what it felt like?”

You nod, then smile faintly. “I think… it’s the only kind of missing you’re comfortable showing.”

Neuvillette looks away. You hear him exhale.

“It is difficult,” he says finally. “To understand emotions… in the way humans do. I feel them. Profoundly. But articulating them—showing them—does not come easily to me.”

“I know,” you say.

And you do.

You know he watches the horizon when you’re not here. That he listens to the echo of your footsteps in the hallway even hours after you’ve left. That he leaves that same towel by the door every time, just in case.

“I worry,” he says, almost inaudibly, “that the rain becomes a burden. That I become one.”

You reach out, taking his hand—gently, carefully, as if he might flinch from it.

He doesn’t.

“You’re not a burden, Neuvillette,” you whisper. “You just… feel differently. And that’s okay.”

For a moment, his hand tightens in yours. As if grounding himself. As if something fragile within him is slowly unraveling.

“Then… may I ask you to stay a little longer tonight?” he asks, voice barely above the breeze.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

The rain doesn’t fall that night.

But the air is still damp with emotion.

And for once, it feels like enough.

୨୧ yay a genshin fic finally

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

part II of backburner

But something shifts that morning.

Maybe it’s the silence—too loud, too sharp. Maybe it’s the way your throat aches from all the words you never say. Maybe it’s the way your reflection doesn’t quite look like you anymore, all dimmed down edges and tired smiles stretched too thin.

Or maybe it’s simply the fact that almost stops being enough.

You don’t cry when you pack your things.

Just the essentials. Just enough to disappear without dramatics. You leave the apartment keys on the counter—next to his favorite mug. The one he never asked for, but always used. The one you stopped drinking from long ago.

By the time the sun fully rises, you’re gone.

It takes him a while to notice.

Maybe it’s the silence—too loud, too sharp. Maybe it’s the way your throat aches from all the words you never say. Maybe it’s the way your reflection doesn’t quite look like you anymore, all dimmed down edges and tired smiles stretched too thin.

At first, he thinks you're just busy. You’ve always had this quiet, independent streak—so it doesn’t hit him immediately.

But then he tries to call. You don’t answer.

He texts:

“You okay?”

Then:

“Can I come over?”

Then:

“…Did I do something?”

All left unread.

And that’s when the panic sets in.

Because Gojo Satoru has always had the privilege of certainty. He’s used to people staying. Used to the world adjusting to his presence. Used to you being there—always there—like gravity.

And now?

Now, he can’t find you.

He goes to your apartment. The one where his presence lingered like a shadow. The one he once claimed space in without ever truly earning it.

But it’s empty.

Cleared out. Silent. Hollow in a way that makes something twist in his chest.

The doorman says you left no forwarding address. No explanation. Just… left.

And that’s when it really hits him.

You’re gone.

Not just for the day. Not just mad. Not just taking space.

Gone.

Gone in a way that feels permanent.

It takes him a week to find you.

He doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t smile the same. Even Shoko notices.

“You look like shit,” she tells him, blunt as ever. “She finally leave?”

That’s what makes him flinch. That finally.

As if everyone else had known you were always on the edge.

He finds you in a quiet town by the coast—an old friend of yours lets it slip. You’re working at a small bookstore, helping with repairs in exchange for lodging. You're smiling more here. People greet you like sunshine, unaware you once lived in someone else’s shadow.

When he walks in, you freeze.

He looks like hell—disheveled, eyes rimmed red, ego stripped raw. But even now, he's still Satoru. The gravity is still there.

Only this time, it doesn't pull you the same way.

“I—I didn’t know where else to go,” he admits, voice cracking like an apology. “I kept checking the apartment. Calling. Texting. You just… disappeared.”

You nod. “I did.”

He laughs, but it’s hollow. “So that’s it? After all this time?”

You look at him. Really look.

And in his face, you see it. The confusion. The hurt. The realization.

That maybe you were never supposed to stay this long.

“I loved you,” you say quietly. “In ways I don’t think you ever saw. In the spaces you didn’t even realize you left behind. And I stayed—because I thought one day, you'd look at me the way you looked at her.”

He opens his mouth, but you hold up a hand.

“But you never did. Not really. And that’s not your fault. But it’s not mine either.”

Tears gather in his eyes, and for the first time, you see him break.

“I was selfish,” he says, voice trembling. “I thought I was keeping you close. But I was keeping you small. And I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you stopped needing me.”

You nod again. It’s not cruel. It’s not bitter.

Just… truth.

“I hope you find what you're looking for, Satoru,” you say softly. “But it can’t be me anymore.”

And that’s when he drops to his knees.

No power. No arrogance. Just a man who’s lost something he never thought he’d lose.

“Please,” he whispers. “Don’t go. Not like this.”

You reach down—gently, like always—and brush the hair from his eyes.

And then you say the hardest thing you’ve ever said:

“I already did.”

Then you turn.

And this time, you don’t look back.

୨୧ kinda feel bad for him but like.. no

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

୨୧ @kitty-yaps

[satvrnsearth]

choso kamo x reader, post-shibuya arc, slight divergence

the rain never stopped in the city after shibuya.

you'd started to think it was mourning too.

choso stood beside you at the train station, arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the tracks below. his blood technique was quiet now—dormant—but you could always feel it, humming like a second heartbeat in your chest when he was near. a constant reminder that he was different. that he shouldn’t have cared for someone like you.

but he did.

you both knew the only reason you’d met was because of yuji. he’d brought you into the fold—dragged you from your cursed research lab when things spiraled out of control. choso hadn’t trusted you at first. another human. another possible threat to his little brother.

but you'd earned his trust.

maybe too much of it.

“you’re bleeding again,” you murmured, reaching toward his side.

choso looked down at the tear in his jacket. the black fabric glistened, soaked from both rain and blood. but he didn’t flinch as your fingers brushed his skin. you didn’t either. you’d done this before. too many times.

“i’m fine,” he said gruffly. “it’s not mine.”

“liar,” you whispered, your voice half-lost in the wind.

he looked at you then—really looked. his crimson eyes weren’t cruel anymore. not sharp or suspicious. they held something softer. something fragile.

“you could leave,” he said. “you don’t have to stay with us. with me.”

you hated when he did this—pushed you away like he was doing you a favor.

“i could,” you replied, stepping closer. “but i won’t.”

he let you in that night, more than he ever had before.

beneath the flickering lights of an abandoned safehouse, you helped clean his wounds. he winced when you pressed the cloth to his ribs, but said nothing. when your hand lingered too long, he caught your wrist.

“i’ve hurt people,” he said quietly. “you shouldn’t look at me like that.”

you tilted your head. “like what?”

“like i’m something worth saving.”

his voice cracked on the last word, and it broke something in you.

you leaned in then, slowly, giving him time to pull away. he didn’t. instead, he kissed you like he’d been starving for centuries. desperate and careful, all at once. blood on his hands. rain on his skin. and you, finally, in his arms.

weeks passed.

fights came and went. sorcerers died. curses rose.

but through it all, choso stayed by your side.

he wasn’t perfect. he didn’t speak much. he still flinched at kindness and froze when you said his name like it meant something. but he held your hand in the dark. he watched over you when you slept. he remembered how you took your tea.

he was learning how to love.

and for you, that was enough.

even if the world around you was still falling apart.

୨୧ idk abt this one.. thoughts...

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

satoru gojo x fem!reader, angst, bittersweet, unrequited-ish love

The word backburner wasn’t something the past you would ever use to describe yourself.

you were raised to believe in center stages, in spotlights. You were always taught to stand tall, to be confident. To not settle for being someone’s second option, someone’s safety net.

But the present you? You whisper that word to yourself like a secret title—bittersweet, but somehow earned.

Because you were his backburner.

Satoru Gojo’s.

And god, if that didn’t make it feel okay. If that didn’t make it feel worth it.

You'd liked him since middle school—back when he was still just the annoyingly cocky boy with too much energy and a smile that made your stomach flutter. Before he became the strongest. Before he carried the weight of the world and the hollow kind of loneliness that came with it.

Before she came into the picture.

You’ve been there through it all. Quietly. Loyally.

A hand he could always reach for in the dark.

Sometimes, it was easy to convince yourself that you mattered. That in his own way, he cared. That it wasn’t just habit, or convenience, or guilt.

Because he did care, didn’t he?

He came to you when the nights got too quiet. When the noise in his head grew louder than the world outside. When she broke his heart in the same way, over and over again, like a loop he couldn’t escape.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes at 1:17 a.m.—a rhythm you've memorized by now. You don't even ask who's at the door. You already know.

Gojo steps in with that usual dramatic flair, even as exhaustion clings to his shoulders like a weighted cloak.

“Fought with her again,” he says, dragging his feet as he drops onto your couch like it’s his.

You offer him tea, warm and sweet. Your version of comfort.

He takes it with a half-smile, fingers brushing yours. His skin is cold.

“She doesn’t understand me,” he mutters, sipping slowly. “It’s like… I’m too much. Or not enough. Or maybe both.”

He laughs bitterly. “But you get it, don’t you?”

There it is again—that look. The one that steals the air from your lungs. The one that’s laced with something almost real.

Almost.

“Of course I do,” you say, because how could you not?

And so, like always, he stays. He curls into the couch, head resting on your lap like it’s second nature. You run your fingers through his hair like it doesn’t break you every time. He drifts off eventually, guarded walls down, trust laid bare in the shape of his quiet breathing.

You stare at the ceiling, too awake, too full of feelings you can’t name without crumbling.

In the morning, he’s gone.

He leaves before sunrise. Always does.

The only trace of him is the folded blanket, the used mug in your sink, and the ache in your chest that somehow feels heavier than it did the night before.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself this is enough.

Because for a few hours, you were the center of his universe.

The one he came to. The one who made him feel understood. The one who held the shattered pieces of him without ever asking for more.

But when you sit down at the edge of your bed, staring at the dent in the pillow where his head had been, the illusion cracks again.

You are not the main character in his story.

You are the backburner.

The warmth he returns to when everything else turns cold. The safe place. The emotional afterthought with a beating heart.

And still—you let him in.

Again, and again, and again.

Because when he looks at you like you’re the only person who’s ever truly seen him… it almost feels like love.

And for you?

Almost has always been enough.

୨୧ she's back smirksmirk 😎 sorry for the long, loooong hiatus. i'll just get back to writing like nothing happened. <3

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

you and kageyama reuniting after a breakup.

the biting november wind whipped around you, tugging at the collar of your coat as you waited at the bus stop. the city lights blurred through the rain-streaked window of the small shelter, casting a hazy glow on the damp pavement. you had just finished a good book in your local library-which was suprisingly a bittersweet moment.

then, he appeared, a figure emerging from the swirling rain, a familiar silhouette under the dim streetlights. taller, broader, the lines of his face sharper, more defined, yet undeniably him. kageyama tobio. the years had etched a maturity onto his features, softening the sharp edges of his youthful intensity. he was still undeniably him, though, the same intensity that used to be overwhelming now holding a quiet strength.

your eyes met across the bustling bus stop, a silent recognition passing between you that transcended the years. time seemed to stop. the city noise faded into a muted hum, leaving only the sound of your own breaths, the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the shelter's roof. he looked different; more mature, the sharp edges of his youth softened by time and experience. he stood a few feet away, his usual stoic expression slightly softened, a hint of surprise in his usually focused eyes.

ths wasn't supposed to happen. a chance encounter at a random bus stop? definitely not on your bingo card. but as he walked towards you-his usual intensity tempered with an unexpected gentleness-you found yourself unable to look away. the years had changed you both, and maybe, just maybe, this unexpected reunion was the start of something new. something more than just painful memories. Something...real.

the once intense, almost frightening focus in his eyes was now tempered with a quiet understanding. he approached hesitantly, his usual confident stride replaced by a hesitant gait, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. he stopped before you, his gaze unwavering, his expression unreadable. the years had softened his features, adding a maturity that was both captivating and unsettling. the years had changed you both. he wasn't the same boy who had left you heartbroken, and you certainly weren’t the same girl who had let him go.

he murmurs your name, his voice that was a low rumble-sent a shiver down your spine.

the sound of your name, whispered on his lips after all this time, felt both strange and incredibly familiar. It was a sound you thought you'd forgotten, a sound that stirred something deep within you, a forgotten melody awakening from a long slumber.

"kageyama?" you managed, your voice barely a whisoer.

four years. four years since you'd last seen kageyama tobio, four years since you'd walked away from a relationship that felt more like a one-sided dedication to volleyball than a partnership.

he was wearing a simple jacket, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, the same quiet intensity you remembered radiating from him. he paused, as if momentarily disoriented, before his eyes widened in recognition.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, your voice a little steadier now, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

he shifted his weight, a familiar nervous habit. "I... I live nearby now. Just moved back a few months ago." He paused, then added, "I didn't expect to see you."

"you look...good," he finally said, his voice a little rough.

"so do you," you replied, and it was true. the years had been kind, adding a certain ruggedness to his features.

"what...what have you been up to?" he asked, as if afraid to delve too deep, too soon.

you talked, hesitantly at first, then with a growing ease that surprised you both. He spoke of his career, of the challenges and triumphs of professional volleyball, his voice a little less harsh, a little more...vulnerable, he listened intently as you spoke about your life, your work, your friends, his gaze unwavering, his focus sharp and intense, yet somehow softer than before.

"I... I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "for everything. for not being...what you needed."

he apologized, not for the first time, but this time, it felt different. there was a genuine remorse in his eyes, a recognition of the mistakes he'd made, the time he'd wasted.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the genuine remorse in his eyes, a recognition of the mistakes he'd made, the time he'd wasted. "It's okay, Kageyama. That was a long time ago."

"no, it's not," he countered, his voice firm. "It still matters. It matters to me."

just then, the bus arrived, breaking the spell of your unexpected reunion, he hesitated. he didn't reach for your hand, though. didn't offer a grand of reconciliation. Instead, he simply said, "l...I'd like to see you again." his voice was quiet, almost a murmur, but the sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes.

you nodded-a genuine smile that reached your eyes-a smile that held the promise of a future yet to be written. "I'd like that too," you replied.

the bus doors hissed open, the sound jarring in the quiet air. you took a step back, ready to board.

"wait," he said, his voice urgent. he took a step forward, closing the distance between you. "can I... can I get your number.. again?" he asks, you did block him very shortly after breaking up-which you thought was reasonable enough.

your heart skipped a beat. after all this time, the simple request felt like a victory. you fumbled in your bag, pulling out your phone. "of course," you said, your voice a little shaky.

he quickly typed in his number, then handed the phone back. "I'll text you," he said, his gaze locked on yours. "let me know you got it."

"I will," you promised, a warmth spreading through you.

as you turned to board the bus, you glanced back. kageyama was still standing there, watching you, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. you offered a quick wave, then stepped onto the bus, the doors closing behind you with a final hiss, sealing you away from the cold November air and into the warmth of the bus. as you found a seat, you pulled out your phone, a message already forming in your mind.

perhaps, just perhaps, this wasn't the end of your story, but a new beginning. a second chance to rewrite the past, to build something real, something lasting, something that wasn't just about volleyball, but about two people finally finding their way back to each other

१९ took a long(ish) break, due to writing block :((this is a bit long but I hope you guys like it! btw, i do have dc so if any1 wants to chat, hmu! (respectfully winkwink) [and yes, this IS my second time posting this 'cause my atupid ass accidentally deleted it]

DISCORD ; satvrneix (#4273 in needed)

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[runaarinn]

✦ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐯𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡

› 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

› 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐲: everything is all good here, feel free to indulge as much as you’d like!

› 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whether or not some of the haikyuu boys would soft launch or hard launch you

› 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: I thought that this would be really cute, I think I wanna make a couple more parts of this, but we'll see! I do hope you guys enjoy <33!

ᥫ᭡ 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 — I feel like bro doesn’t even use social media, like he has a verified profile and everything, but he doesn’t post unless it’s like volleyball-related. however, I think he’d soft-launch the hell out of you. like when he asks you to be his girlfriend and stuff, like people wouldn’t know (I feel like he’s like a really private person), but as a few years pass and he proposes to you he’d post like a singular photo of you with your hand in the camera, GIANT rock on your ring finger with a caption like “she said yes 🙂”. 

when I tell you, EVERYONE is shocked and surprised. like everyone is, including his own teammates. like they would be like “I know that you’re in love with y/n and you guys have been together for like years, but i didn’t know that you were considering marrying her, let alone proposing to her.” and then ushijima would djust be like, “marrying her was always going to be the end goal”, and he would definitely have liek the softest smile on his lips, like its so cute.

he literally only smiles when he talks about you. his teammates and friends start gushing. and I feel like he would totally cry watching you walk down the aisle, too.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 — I feel like he would attempt to soft launch you, but he just has such a big, fat mouth that he quite literally can’t keep it under wraps. like when the two of you would start dating, he was doing pretty well at keeping it on the low, not by his choice, though. you thought it would be better to slowly make it known that the two of you are a couple, since he does have such an insane fan club of girls, but he understood your reasoning and respected it. 

I think that oikawa is an aesthetic king on the low. so if you guys were to go out on a date at like this super really nice restaurant, he would post a picture [in low exposure lighting, of course] highlighting the two glasses and two plates. he’d probably also caption it ‘on a date, kind of nervous’; and you would just barely be in the frame. on top of that, let’s say that you guys went on a date to like a carnival too, and you guys took two different sets of pictures, he would post the set where your hair is covering your face the most, or where you can’t actually see you that much in general. that way, he can obviously still respect your boundaries of not being ready to let everyone know, but still allowing people to know that the two of you are dating. 

one day, you guys were on a date, and he made this little collage of the two of you just to save to his phone, but he accidentally posted it and didn’t realize till a few hours later when people were blowing up your phone and his congratulating the two of you. everyone was literally super sweet, and saying that the two of you are freaking adorable. you felt a little silly about it all, but oikawa peppered you with kisses and supplied you with D1-level reassurance. mwah.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐢 — what’s a hard launch? the hell is a soft launch? tsukishima, more than likely, has heard of these terms before, but he just simply doesn’t care about them; he actually probably thinks that they’re kind of stupid. if you want to show off your partner, then go ahead; if not, that’s fine too. there’s no need to go through a “hard” or” soft” launch. he thinks that the term and label as a whole is really, really stupid.

I don’t think that he’s necessarily the type of person to like try and “hide” or “not” show you off. like I feel like he’s the type of person to have like mad followers on instagram, and he’ll have like a few instagram highlights; like a highlight of just himself, some stuff from volleyball and like a music highlight. and then he’ll randomly post to his stories like pictures of the two of you, and some candid shots of you! eventually he’ll also make a highlight of just you and the name would probably be something simple like ‘🤍’

everyone responds to his story, but literally, he doesn’t pay anybody any mind. to be honest, I literally don’t think he responds to any of his instagram dm’s like at all. it’s really bad. he has stuff sitting in there from his classmates from like years, ago. a little side track, but I feel like this man is also super bad at texting people back. like he would acknowledge the message, but he’ll leave people on ‘read’, or delivered.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — hard launch. like absolutely, no doubt in my mind he is a hard launcher. mind you — he’d probably hard-launched both of you before the two of you even started dating. I feel like he is such a picture hoarder, like he is at least over 25k pictures in his phone (calling myself out with this one). and a vast majority of those pictures are of you, him, and the team, and random pictures he keeps forgetting to delete. 

when you first joined the fukordani boys volleyball club as one of their managers, you and bokuto hit it off well. you seemed like a really sweet person, you’re super smart, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and he wanted to be your friend really bad! him and akaashi started to invite you to grab something to eat after late-night practices, and even things as simple as sitting outside during the lunch period together. eventually, you’ve naturally grown onto the team, and started to hang out with everyone as a whole as well. 

as time went on, you and bokuto began to spend more one-on-one time with one another — whether it be him walking you home, or you guys hanging out at a cute little cafe that is somewhere in the area. no matter what you guys are doing, bokuto will always take a snapshot or some sort of photo of the two of you together and post it. like yeah, he posts a lot on a regular basis, but it’s not that hard to notice when you, specifically, are being posted a lot more often compared to everyone else. 

when bokuto actually posted a cute candid photo of you holding the most gorgeous bouquet of roses, and somewhere on the screen it’ll say ‘guess whose officially the boyfriend to the most gorgeous girl’, and everyone is literally like “WHATTTTTTTT??” “I thought you guys were ALREADY dating.”

© all pastries (aka content) belong to runaarinn — do not repost, steal, or scrape without permission.

[satvrnsearth]

there is a kind of love in being known.

having a boyfriend like sugawara, meant having a boyfriend who knew you sooooo well.

on a random monday afternoon during practice, sugawara lingered by the sidelines, watching you sit by the bleachers, volleyballs bouncing on court. his gaze was gentle, warm—more than just noticing your presence, he saw the small signs that most might miss. the way your shoulders tensed when you were deep in thought, the faint furrow of your brow when something was bothering you, the way your fingers grasped your water bottle a little too tightly when you were trying to hide how tired you felt.

he stepped closer, voice soft but earnest. “hey, are you okay?”

you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to reveal what was really going on. but somehow, sugawara had a way of making you feel safe, like he understood even when words failed. you looked up—meeting his eyes—and for a moment, you considered pretending, putting on a brave face like you always did. but instead, you simply nodded, a small, tired smile on your lips.

he reached out, gently brushing your hand with his. “you don’t have to hide from me,” he said. “I see all the parts of you—your quiet moments, your messy thoughts, the things you try to keep hidden. that’s why I’m here, aren’t i?”

you felt a warmth bloom in your chest. no one had ever seen you like that—really seen you—and stayed. not just the surface, but the depths. the good, the messy, the loud, and the quiet. sugawara’s understanding made everything feel lighter, as if a weight you didn’t even realize you carried had been lifted.

“you know,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly, “it’s rare. to be truly known like that.”

he nodded softly, eyes full of kindness. “when someone knows you like that—you don’t have to pretend. you don’t have to explain every little thing because they already understand. you can be quiet, you can be messy, and you’re still loved. That kind of love—being truly known—it changes everything.”

you looked away for a moment, then back at him, feeling a newfound sense of comfort. with sugawara, you didn’t have to hide the parts of yourself you thought were unworthy or too much. here, you were seen—really seen—and loved for who you were in every state.

the world felt a little softer, a little less lonely. because in that moment, you realized there was love in being truly known. And sugawara’s presence made everything feel just a little more real, more beautiful, more safe.

and in that quiet understanding, you knew you had found something rare—something worth holding onto forever.

୨୧ unfortunately i couldn't make my text gradient 'cause i'm on my phone 😞 but anyways, i hope you guys like it!! i actually just thought about this and sugawara suddenly crossed my mind after soo.. ykyk he's gentle and shtuff 😍 I PROMISE THE TOJI FIC WILL COME SOON

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved.

[satvrnsearth]

im.. currently.. suffering.. from a... writing... block...

[kenmapple]

𖥔꒰ texts w/ your boyfriend, kenma²

cw: post timeskip!kenma x fem!reader, established relationship, suggestive, swearing, sick!kenma, drunk!reader

[satvrnsearth]

good stuff good stuff.. 🚬🚬😍😍

[satvrnsearth]

gamer kenma and top student reader trope but with a twist <33

it was lunch time, and the classroom was quiet, except for the constant sound of your pen scribbling on paper. you looked at your notebook, consisting of notes with a handwriting like print. you were the brightest in your class, always at the top, your medals and trophies a testament to your dedication and intelligence. yet, despite your achievements, you couldn’t help but feel like there was something lacking. something more than just academics.

your gaze turned to the boy who was at the back of the class, clutching onto his nintendo like he always did—uninterested In anything and anyone. and you admit, you’ve developed a small liking for him. just a little.

you felt curious—how that small gadget could be of so much meaning to him. how those games resonate with him. so of course you had to buy one for yourself, out of curiosity anyway. you started staying up late, started watching tutorials for certain games—even going as far as to contact that friend of his—kuroo, to ask him about other games that kenma had played.

you were the definition of a lovestruck highschool student. it wasn’t that pathetic, actually. while you played those games, you felt more connected to him—as if sharing his world brought you a step closer to understanding him. and it felt nice.

meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, kenma had been eyeing you as well—for a while now, if i may add. a few things though, he was not the star student, nor the class favorite. he was the quiet boy at the back, often lost in his gadgets during breaks, his focus on the games he plays rather than grades. though—he wasn’t exactly dumb per se, just not that academically focused.

and then you. you were the untouchable genius, and—he admired you from afar. he studied you and your passions, he observed you. he cut back on his gaming, he listened more, stayed behind after classes, silently hoping that you would notice. it wasn’t normal for him to do things like this, but for you—for you it was just.. different.

you both did things for one another—but you would never admit it to each others face. It was like a sacred secret that only each of you would know, and maybe that was why it was so precious.

then, over the next few weeks, he began to notice subtle changes in you. you no longer talked about your medals nor your grades, no longer wrote notes during breaks; now, you were nose deep invested in games, holding your phone, nintendo, whatever gadget you had games on. the two of you even had a short conversation about the legend of zelda—your favorite game so far. It was also your first conversation. and.. it felt nice. he felt seen, in a way. It was as if you had started to step into his world, all because of the quiet influence he unknowingly had on you.

you looked up and caught his gaze, a shy smile forming. It was in that moment he realized you had taken the first steps into understanding what he loved, not just out of admiration for him but because you genuinely wanted to connect with him on his terms.

he felt a mixture of surprise and warmth. you were learning, not just to impress him, but because you cared—about him, about what he loved, and perhaps about finding a way to meet him halfway. the realization made him smile quietly to himself, knowing that sometimes, the smallest gestures could become the strongest bridges.

then finally, the moment arrived. the time when the school held an award ceremony. as your name was called as the top student, you looked to your left—because he was there too. he’d finally earned a place beside you, his medal gleaming on his chest, a symbol of his hard work.

but as the applause echoed around them, she realized something. despite her top medals and his, they were worlds apart in recognition. her medals never made him notice her, and his quiet efforts still couldn't bridge the silence. yet, in that moment, a new connection formed—not through medals or games, but through understanding that sometimes, the greatest victories are the ones we share silently, in the spaces between words. you both achieved something because of each other—and that was the highest honor of all.

୨୧ kind of a short one. inspired by a prompt :p

@satvrnsearth all rights reserved

[satvrnsearth]

i'm currently writing an apartment neighbor!toji fic and i'm unsure whether or not i should make it a long one, like with different chapters or whether i should just make it a long one shot. i'm not used to making super duper long fics buttt i'm open to trying new things teehee. although it does have potential even while being a one shot. aghhhhh idontknow you guys decide i'm very indecisive 😞🥀