puddingheads

[puddingheads]

masterlist.

—

Sparkle || Oikawa Tooru

“In which you realise the sparkle in his eyes was never for you.”

Genre: Angst

Turbulence || Suna Rintarou

“In which Suna was your anchor, your lullaby, your home.”

Genre: Angst

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu

“In which the small things stay with you, forever.”

Genre: Fluff

Colourful || Iwaizumi Hajime

“In which seasons change with Earth’s orbit, and Iwaizumi changes with you.”

Genre: Fluff

Blanco || Miya Atsumu

“In which you find Atsumu, right where he always is.”

Genre: Fluff

—

[puddingheads]

??? did something happen??? how are people still finding and following me it's been ages since my last work was posted??

[puddingheads]

Blanco || Miya Atsumu.

In which you find Atsumu, right where he always is.

Warnings: Mostly fluff with just a liTTLE bit of angst!

Word count: ~600

Note: I was listening to Blanco by Omoinotake today and this instantly popped in my head, so here it is!

—

of course atsumu was in the playground again, on the swing. staring at the sandpit just a few feet away from him, as if the world’s secrets were buried deep within it. of course he would be here. of course.

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

Blanco || Miya Atsumu.

In which you find Atsumu, right where he always is.

Warnings: Mostly fluff with just a liTTLE bit of angst!

Word count: ~600

Note: I was listening to Blanco by Omoinotake today and this instantly popped in my head, so here it is!

—

of course atsumu was in the playground again, on the swing. staring at the sandpit just a few feet away from him, as if the world’s secrets were buried deep within it. of course he would be here. of course.

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

Blanco || Miya Atsumu.

In which you find Atsumu, right where he always is.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort but like,, 90% comfort because I'm terrified of confrontation

Word count: ~600

Note: I was listening to Blanco by Omoinotake today and this instantly popped in my head, so here it is!

—

of course atsumu was in the playground again, on the swing. staring at the sandpit just a few feet away from him, as if the world's secrets were buried deep within it. of course he would be here. of course.

the crunching of your footsteps fade into the silence of the night and you steady your breath, wondering why you ran so desperately despite knowing he would be right here for sure.

you think of calling out to him, but decide against it. instead, you sit beside him and grip the cool metal chains that held up the piece of plastic you sat on.

he notices your presence — he always does — but says nothing.

the two of you settle in the midnight silence, atsumu still staring at the sandpit and you looking up at the sky. your eyes search the constellations of faintly twinkling stars as if they were a map that leads to what you should say. should you apologise for lashing out? for not noticing how stressed he had been? for not realising how everything was building up before it all finally exploded?

"why did you come?" atsumu was the first to speak, his voice quiet and hoarse.

turning to look at him, you gasp. under the dim streetlights, you could somehow see him so much better than you did under the warm yellow light of your shared living room. not only did his eyes lose their usual cheeky shine, his smile was nowhere to be seen. he looked tired, exhausted.

how could you not notice?

he lets out a small sigh.

"because you're here," you reply, words slipping out of your mouth before you knew it. there's a beat, as if he was waiting for something more, as if he wasn't convinced by your answer even if it was nothing but the truth. "and i wanted to apologise."

"for?"

you purse your lips, so many words flooding your mind at once that you could barely process it all. "for earlier. i shouldn't have gotten angry at you-"

"you can't control how you feel," he interjects.

"yes, but i can control what i do with my emotions. i'm sorry for yelling and saying all those hurtful words. i'm sorry for being insensitive to your feelings." you would have continued, would have rambled on and on and on if it were not for the hand that enveloped yours ever so gently.

"shall we go home?" atsumu asks, and of course you nod.

the two of you walk home, the path seeming so much warmer and safer compared to when you walked along it in the opposite direction just five minutes ago.

"you'll stay with me, right?" you vaguely wonder why atsumu would even ask that – what other answer would you give, other than a 'yes'?

"of course," you squeeze his hand, hoping to dispel some of the unease still swirling in his eyes. "you'll have to try way harder than running to the playground if you want to get rid of me."

with that, his lips lifted into a small smile, a breath of a laugh carrying his worries far, far away.

-

later that night, as the two of you lay in bed, atsumu asked yet another question.

"how did you find me?"

"where else would you be, if it isn't that playground?" engulfed in darkness, you could barely see his silhouette next to you.

because of course atsumu would go back to where you two had met. apart from being right by your side, there was nowhere else he felt this complete.

and of course, no matter how serious the fight, no matter how far he runs, you would always find him.

—

[puddingheads]

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I’m finally writing a fluff fic, but I can’t seem to tear myself away from angst. It’s extremely minimal here though, and there’s a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

aaa thank you sm for enjoying it!! your feedback means a lot to me💕

Colourful || Iwaizumi Hajime.

In which seasons change with Earth’s orbit, and Iwaizumi changes with you.

Warnings: Fluff, a tad melancholic, poem form

Word count: ~0.2k

Note: Writing this was really fun, hope you enjoy! The formatting was pretty weird for mobile users, so I’ve added “-“s to signify a stanza break!

—

he was a void

and you a galaxy,

the catalyst of his resurrection

the feathers on his wings.

-

he who sat in godzilla’s wake seeking solace

found faith in the kaleidoscope of your eyes

that cradled and reflected

all the colours of the universe.

-

(because an encounter with fate

is one that never fades

and a commitment with love

is one that never breaks.)

-

pink and green and lilac—

sprout regardless the suffocation of the earth

bloom regardless the negligence of the sun

prosper

regardless the force of the wind.

-

orange and yellow and red—

blaze the ice in his chest

fan the spark to life

ignite

even the darkest days.

-

brown and olive and auburn—

scare the labyrinthic pandemonium of fear

fill the gaping wormhole of hope

warm

the bed enclosed in the walls painted you.

-

blue and grey and white—

cool the simmering unease within his core

blanket the soulless soil with pure wool

freeze

the clock at 6:10.

-

(please, don’t tick anymore,

for every passing second

is a reminder of the inevitable end

when the final snowflakes fall.)

-

you who wished wonders upon him

failed to realise that in the cycle of disaster

you were the greatest miracle

bestowed upon him

because

-

he was a void and you,

a galaxy to call his own;

stars painted gold and silver

fireworks bursting,

illuminating the black of his world.

[puddingheads]

JFLSKDKS THANK YOU😭😭 I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS PIECE!!💕

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I’m finally writing a fluff fic, but I can’t seem to tear myself away from angst. It’s extremely minimal here though, and there’s a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

Colourful || Iwaizumi Hajime.

In which seasons change with Earth's orbit, and Iwaizumi changes with you.

Warnings: Fluff, a tad melancholic, poem form

Word count: ~0.2k

Note: Writing this was really fun, hope you enjoy! The formatting was pretty weird for mobile users, so I've added "-"s to signify a stanza break!

—

he was a void

and you a galaxy,

the catalyst of his resurrection

the feathers on his wings.

-

he who sat in godzilla’s wake seeking solace

found faith in the kaleidoscope of your eyes

that cradled and reflected

all the colours of the universe.

-

(because an encounter with fate

is one that never fades

and a commitment with love

is one that never breaks.)

-

pink and green and lilac—

sprout regardless the suffocation of the earth

bloom regardless the negligence of the sun

prosper

regardless the force of the wind.

-

orange and yellow and red—

blaze the ice in his chest

fan the spark to life

ignite

even the darkest days.

-

brown and olive and auburn—

scare the labyrinthic pandemonium of fear

fill the gaping wormhole of hope

warm

the bed enclosed in the walls painted you.

-

blue and grey and white—

cool the simmering unease within his core

blanket the soulless soil with pure wool

freeze

the clock at 6:10.

-

(please, don't tick anymore,

for every passing second

is a reminder of the inevitable end

when the final snowflakes fall.)

-

you who wished wonders upon him

failed to realise that in the cycle of disaster

you were the greatest miracle

bestowed upon him

because

-

he was a void and you,

a galaxy to call his own;

stars painted gold and silver

fireworks bursting,

illuminating the black of his world.

—

[puddingheads]

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I’m finally writing a fluff fic, but I can’t seem to tear myself away from angst. It’s extremely minimal here though, and there’s a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

holy crap this hit 50 notes in 3 days??? yall really love noya huh😭😭 thank you all sm for the support and i hope youll check out my other works too💕

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I’m finally writing a fluff fic, but I can’t seem to tear myself away from angst. It’s extremely minimal here though, and there’s a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

Hello, I just wanted to let you know that, upon coming across your masterlist, I read the synopsis of your Oikawa fic and literally raised my eyebrows and said “ooh.” Thank you, goodbye.

hehe im glad that it managed to pique your interest!! i hope you enjoyed the fic💕

[puddingheads]

masterlist.

—

Sparkle || Oikawa Tooru

“In which you realise the sparkle in his eyes was never for you.”

Genre: Angst

Turbulence || Suna Rintarou

“In which Suna was your anchor, your lullaby, your home.”

Genre: Angst

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu

“In which the small things stay with you, forever.”

Genre: Fluff

Colourful || Iwaizumi Hajime

"In which seasons change with Earth's orbit, and Iwaizumi changes with you."

Genre: Fluff

Blanco || Miya Atsumu

"In which you find Atsumu, right where he always is."

Genre: Hurt/comfort

—

[puddingheads]

jdkdjkskd thanks for enjoying the fic but please dont cry🥺🥺

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I’m finally writing a fluff fic, but I can’t seem to tear myself away from angst. It’s extremely minimal here though, and there’s a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

Keep reading

[puddingheads]

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I'm finally writing a fluff fic, but I can't seem to tear myself away from angst. It's extremely minimal here though, and there's a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

i.

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

ii.

After days and weeks and months of the push and pull game you had engaged Nishinoya in, he finally scored a date with you. It was in the middle of summer when you agreed to meet him at the park, where the summer festival was held.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the Star Festival, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all on purpose. Only Nishinoya would choose such a day, the only day Vega and Altair were allowed to meet, to be the day of your first date. (Well, if it was on purpose, you sure hoped that you’ll still see him the next day. You didn’t want the first date to be the last, after all.)

“Noya, you’re late,” you chastised, watching him jog over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” he laughed, tugging you along to the stands. Immediately, you were swept up by his antics and found yourself having a blast. It was just like him to easily infect you with joy and laughter, just like him to make you forget all your worries.

Spending time with him always felt like a magic carpet ride, bringing you to new places you never knew existed and making you feel emotions you never knew you could feel. It was intoxicating, and soon you found yourself drunk off the dream-like atmosphere.

After hanging your slip of paper with your wish on the wish tree, you turned to Nishinoya. For a second, it felt like a scene from one of your many dreams was playing right before your eyes. His hands firmly pressed together in a fervent prayer for his wish to come true, his brows knitted in the concentration you only ever saw when he was on the court, his lips pursed in unspoken yearning.

Silently, you wondered what he was wishing so desperately for. What more could he ask for, if he already had everything? What could the wish tree bring that he couldn’t attain with his effort?

(He wanted a lot of things, and all of them were related to you.)

His eyes instantly met yours when they finally opened. As if his wish had already been granted, a brilliant smile spread across his face. He fidgeted a little, hands searching himself for an almost-forgotten gift.

“For you,” he beamed, holding out a single forget-me-not. Some of its petals had already fallen from being jostled around throughout the evening, yet it still stood tall and proud, all its yellow and blue on display.

Taking it graciously, you could barely find the words to express the loud drumming of your heart in your chest. Before you could embarrass yourself with a haphazard word of thanks, a gust of wind blew.

The swaying strips of paper on the tree behind Nishinoya painted a meteor shower around his silhouette, adorning his already ethereal form with an otherworldly halo. Along with the wind was the smell of your shampoo, and almost as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs, his heart instantly started racing and the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

In the wind was you, and in his lungs was the final push for him to fall down the rabbit hole. In the familiar scent of you was your wordless gratitude—”You give me a reason to smile.”

And in the wind was him, and held tight in your hands was the embodiment of his adoration. Under the full moon and colourful lights of the festival, no words were needed. In the sweet scent of the forget-me-not was his shy confession—”You make my heart pound, yet put me at so much ease.”

iii.

“I’m home,” you called out just as you stepped into your apartment and met Nishinoya’s eyes. Instantly, you recognised the nervous glint in his eyes, one you only saw when he broke something after getting carried away with Tanaka. “What did you do now, Yuu?”

“It’s nothing bad!” He was quick to defend himself, even quicker to unload the bags from your tired arms. Ever since you started officially dating Nishinoya, him being in your house on the weekends became a common occurrence.

Following him into your usually pristine kitchen, shock smacked you over the top of your head and sent you stumbling. It was a disaster zone, the counters littered with broken eggs and flour, and a mountain of dirty bowls in the sink. The oven dinged, bringing your attention to a suspicious mound inside.

“Were you baking?” You frowned, examining the crinkled top of the cake.

“Well, it’s our anniversary, and you like cake,” Nishinoya mumbled, pointedly staring at his creation. It wasn’t that bad, but it definitely made you hesitate to have a taste. “It’s your favourite kind, I’m sure you’ll like it!”

In his childlike confidence, you found yourself sighing in defeat. There was no way you could refuse when he was looking at you with so much hope in his eyes.

“Looks like we have two cakes to eat then,” you smiled fondly at him, pulling out a small box from one of the bags you brought home. “I got a slice from the bakery down the street.”

“We must be telepathic!” He exclaimed, excitedly unboxing the store bought slice and setting it next to his home baked one. The stark difference in appearance and his unabashed pride in his cake was hilarious yet endearing.

Deciding not to judge a book by its cover, you coaxed yourself to taste a fallen piece from the fruit of Nishinoya’s labour. Simultaneously, Nishinoya took a bite of the cake you had bought.

In the sweetness of the frosting and the fluffiness of the sponge cake, all Nishinoya could taste was your bashful devotion—”I only want the best for you.”

And in the saltiness of the crumbly cake(he must’ve gotten the salt and sugar mixed up again), all you could taste was his bold resolve—”I’ll do anything for you.”

iv.

“I want to travel the world.” Your fingers that were deftly twirling his hair came to a stop at Nishinoya’s sudden declaration.

“Do you have the money to go?” You asked, mind starting to wander. You’d always known that Nishinoya was a bird meant to fly, always known that Japan was unable to contain his huge dreams, always known that he would jump at any opportunity to explore the unknown. Yet, hearing it outright caught you off guard and got you worrying.

He was still young, still inexperienced, still naive. You saw these as reasons he should stay, he saw them as reasons he should go; for you were careful and he was carefree.

“I have a plan.” He replied, resolution strong in his voice. The confidence he usually emitted was now unable to reassure you, unable to drive away the darkness called unease from your heart.

“How long will you be gone?” With all your being, you wished that he would laugh and tell you it was a joke, like he always did.

“As long as it takes,” shrugging, he shifted to meet your eyes. In the intensity of his gaze, you knew he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about it, and nothing you said would make him stay.

It wasn’t the first time you heard about his dream of travelling the world and experiencing everything he could, it wasn’t the first time you felt this helpless, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you feared his departure.

Somewhere deep in your heart was fear—a lot of fear. You were afraid of holding him back, afraid of watching him leave and never return, afraid of being away from him. But the day when you had to stop running away from the fear was bound to come; it was inescapable.

“I’m not breaking up with you, of course,” as if he could hear your fears, he continued. “We’ll keep in contact. We may be physically apart, but I’ll never leave. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“We are.” You said, mustering all the conviction you could find. Whether it was to convince him or to convince yourself, you weren’t sure.

It took weeks of preparation and arrangements before Nishinoya was able to fly off. You had contemplated if you should send him off, since you were sure to break down in tears once he stepped through the departure gates, but decided to go to the airport anyway. All for seeing him just a little more.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Nishinoya muttered, face buried in your neck as he pulled you in a tight embrace. You hoped the strength in his grip wasn’t due to a hesitance at the last minute.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it without you,” you confessed, not realising the arrows your words pierced through his heart.

In your shaky voice and shallow breaths, he heard your reluctant promise—”No matter how long it takes, I’ll always be right there waiting for you.”

And in his rare moment of silence, you heard his wholehearted oath—”No matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to you.”

v.

Years had passed, both Nishinoya and you had grown more mature, more accustomed to only seeing each other once a year, more familiar with loneliness. But now, Nishinoya’s desire to explore has been satiated, and his journey around the globe has come to an end. He was back.

“Yuu!” The elation in your voice easily drowned out his calling of your name, earning a few glances from the passersby in the airport.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands and resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and let out a content sigh. He immediately mirrored you, basking in your presence.

“I’m home,” Nishinoya whispered, pulling away.

“You’re home.” You reciprocated, taking all of him in. He was a little tanner than the previous time you saw him, his eyes a little brighter.

For the first time since you last saw him, everything felt right. With him back, a monotony you never noticed was relieved. With you back, a stability he had forgotten was restored. Being back together brought back memories of the past and gave hope for the future. To be a tad dramatic, you never felt quite as alive when he wasn’t by your side.

Just like the love stories and romance movies, everything around the both of you faded to nothingness. For a split second, it was just the two of you in the entire universe. For that split second, nothing else mattered, since you were with Nishinoya, and he wasn’t going anywhere else.

And in that split second, he decided that it was now or never.

Taking a step away, he fumbled for something in his pocket. As he sunk to one knee, realisation settled in your mind. Oh, oh.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Nishinoya declared, eyes glazed over and smile full of anticipation.

In the glittering diamond seated atop the silver band he held up, you saw his wish hung upon the wish tree—

And in the glimmering tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head yes, he saw your wish hung upon the wish tree—

“Stay with me, forever.”

—

[puddingheads]

Turbulence || Suna Rintarou.

In which Suna was your anchor, your lullaby, your home.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death (tw for car accidents), grief, fluff if you believe hard enough, slight post time skip manga spoilers

Word count: ~1.0k

Note: Disclaimer that this is not meant to romanticise death or the grieving process! (Please handle your grief in a healthy manner!) Also, this is set after the time skip!

—

hey baby,

how have you been? it’s been half a year since you left, have you gotten used to the other side yet? i’m getting by, if you’d call it that. i don’t remember how i lived before we met, i must have grown dependent on you.

it hasn’t stopped raining ever since the last time i saw you, lying there with your eyes closed. or maybe it did… i didn’t notice. i barely remember the blue sky now, all i ever see is grey.  did you take the sun with you? if you did, i hope it’s bright and warm where you’re at. you never liked gloomy weather, after all. atsumu said that the skies are dark because of me. remember how he liked to tease me about being a ray of sunshine? i haven’t heard that in a while.

kita said i haven’t been smiling much. can you see me from up there? do you think i’ve been smiling less? i think i’m smiling just fine, just enough. at least, i smile when i see the violets you left me. remember them? i pressed them so i wouldn’t forget how you left them at my door when we fought. did you know they symbolise peace and healing when you gave them to me? it feels like a strange foreshadowing. did you know you would leave me? did you know how much it’d hurt? you knew a lot of things, i wouldn’t be surprised if you saw all this coming. (remember how you brought a clean shirt to our first date? i still don’t know how you predicted that i’d spill my drink all over myself.)

i still wake up at 6 every morning, though your alarm never rings anymore. i haven’t gotten used to waking up without you by my side. sometimes, i think i hear you in the shower, but it’s just the rain against the windows. i’ve stopped asking for an extra 5 minutes in bed, because there isn’t a reason to stay there any longer.

since your cursed sleep schedule haunts me till today(why aren’t you haunting me like the ghost stories you used to tell?), i do the laundry in the morning now. i like to watch it sway in the wind. it’s calming, like you. it makes me think everything will be okay, gives a strange sense of stability. on days the wind doesn’t blow, i feel a little strange. there isn’t much to wash now, so i wash the sheets a lot more. they’ve stopped smelling like you.

ah, i haven’t washed your coat—the nice brown one i got you, not the black one you wore that night. it’s still hanging by the door, in case you ever come back.

work is as per usual, but everyone has been nicer to me since they heard about you. even my manager stopped dumping work on me, can you believe it? the poor newcomer has to deal with her now. he makes really good coffee by the way, i think you’ll like it a lot. well, if you’d stop being a snob about instant coffee, at least. the beans aran got for your birthday are still in the cupboard. i’ll have to use them someday.

it feels wrong to drive past your training centre after work, so i stop by to say hi. they have a new middle blocker, but i haven’t had the chance to talk to him yet. komori tags along sometimes since he lives just a street down from us. he’s a funny one, he says it’ll be rude to sit in the passenger seat since it’s where you used to sit. he really looks up to you, but i’m sure you already knew that. he sings your praises whenever we talk about you, since you aren’t there to shoot them down.

of course, the roads still scare me a little. i wouldn’t want to take away someone’s everything because of my carelessness. i drive really carefully, i promise.

eating dinner at home really rubs it in my face that you’re not here anymore. can you believe that our tiny dining table could feel empty? i couldn’t at first, till the night after i got the phone call from the hospital. osamu invites me to onigiri miya a lot, i think he knows how much i’ve grown to dread dinnertime. don’t worry, he isn’t feeding me weird stuff. he’d only pull such pranks on atsumu. (we tricked him into eating a ghost pepper recently, you should’ve seen the look on his face when he realised.) 

it’s still hard to fall asleep, probably because you’re not lying next to me. it’s always in the middle of the night when the emotions really flood in. some nights, i feel like a ship trying to stay put in choppy waters without an anchor. some nights, i feel like a helicopter with one less rotor blade. some nights, i feel like a car without breaks. i hate how uneasy i feel without you beside me, but i’m learning to stand on my own once more.

anyway, your pillow gets cold at night, so i hug it to sleep now. i hope you don’t mind, i’d still hug you over any pillow if i could. remember that fox plushie you got me from that festival? it’s on our bed now, so it doesn’t feel too empty. sometimes, i mistake it for you in the dark. kidding, but i’ll always tease you about looking like that plushie.

oh, and if you’re wondering, i’m still wearing the ring. you still have yours on, right? you’ll have to wait a little if you lost it again, since i can’t help you find it yet. the dress is in the closet, now in a box. don’t worry, as much as i want to wear it, i’ll only ever wear it for you, because we promised.

this letter is way longer than i’d intended it to be, so i’ll tell you the rest another day. i’ll see you soon, maybe. please wait for me.

till we meet again, i love you.

p.s. sorry for saying ‘remember’ so much, i was scared that you’ll forget all this before i did. please remember me like how i’ll always remember you.

[puddingheads]

Sparkle || Oikawa Tooru.

In which you realise the sparkle in his eyes was never for you.

Warnings: Slight fluff to angst, implied toxic relationship

Word count: ~2.1k

Note: Yes, this is another work based on Oikawa’s canon ex-girlfriend. Sue me.

—

Oikawa Tooru sparkled. It was probably what drew in all his fangirls, after all. His devotion to volleyball, the intensity in his eyes, his relaxed smile around people. It was easy to let your guard down around him—easy to be influenced by his passion. You reckon, that was probably what made you fall for him.

How you met Oikawa was a miracle, in all honesty. Fate never intended for your paths to cross, yet you found yourself walking up to him one day, fists clenched with determination.

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