#hqbaby.fic

[hqbaby]

how did it end? — hinata x reader

ੈ𑁍༘⋆ didn’t you hear? they called it all off. after your relationship falls apart, you find yourself trying to pick up the pieces. in the midst of the wreckage, you still can’t figure out exactly why it all ended.

word count. 1.5k content. angst, breakup fic

You remember when you first moved in. It was a hot summer day and there was a leak in the kitchen. It wasn’t there when you bought the place and Shoyo had spent the whole morning arguing with the realtor because of it. You remember seeing him get all frustrated and having to tell him to calm down, that it would be fine.

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he told you when he got off the phone. The two of you were sitting on the floor of your bare living room, sucking on popsicles and wiping the sweat from your foreheads.

His words warmed your heart, which might have seemed counterproductive in the heat, but you didn’t care. All you could do was smile at him and take his hand and say, “Look around. It’s already perfect.”

He lit up at your words, suddenly all giddy as looked around the place. Your place. For both of you.

He kissed you then and you laughed, jokingly shoving him away, reminding him of the heat, but he didn’t care. You didn’t either.

Things were easier then. Lighter, happier. Better.

You look around the living room now, bare once more, stripped of all signs of life that had once filled its walls, and you wonder if things will ever be that good again. And you realize that they probably won’t.

“You okay?” Sakusa asks you. He’s carrying a box of your things, things that had once had a place in this home and don’t anymore. “Are you missing anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you tell him, picking up a box at your feet. “We should go.”

All of your things are split between the trunk of your car and Sakusa’s. After he heard about what happened, he had offered to help you move your things to your new place. At that point, you hadn’t even considered leaving this house, your home. You never thought you’d have to look for a new place again.

“Is there anything else?” Sakusa asks as he closes the trunk of his car.

You look at the boxes of your things, the empty house behind you, the winding road ahead with an unfamiliar destination. You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes. “I—I can’t,” you say, turning back to the house. “I can’t leave. It’s not over yet.”

Your friend has a pained expression on his face. He says your name, quietly, sadly. “What do you want to do?”

“Can I call him?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

But you’re already fumbling through your pockets, pulling your phone out. “I’m gonna call him.”

You tap on his number, still at the top of your contacts list. You worry your lip as you listen to the phone ring once. Twice. Thrice.

He declines.

You ring him again.

Decline.

Again.

Decline.

“Please stop,” Sakusa says, prying the phone from your hands. “He won’t answer. I’m sorry.”

You look back at the house. Did it always look so empty? So lifeless? So miserable?

“I just need a minute,” you tell him, rubbing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Just a minute,” you say, walking towards the house. To soothe it? To stop its pain? You don’t know. “I’ll be back.”

You push through the doors and suddenly you’re back at the beginning.

Shoyo stands by the staircase with a fresh bouquet, grinning that boyish grin of his. “Happy anniversary,” he says.

You frown. “It’s not our anniversary.”

“I know,” he tells you, still grinning. “But it will be in three months. Thought I’d get you something in advance.”

You launch yourself into his arms and he peppers your face with kisses as you giggle and clutch the bouquet to your chest. “I love it,” you tell him, pulling away to look him square in the eye. “Thank you.”

You’re back in the present, standing at the staircase, arms empty, the warmth of his embrace gone. How long had it been since the two of you were that happy? That careless with your joy?

A month ago, you were both at the staircase too. You were standing at the top, him at the bottom. The distance hurt you more than it should have.

“I can’t deal with this anymore,” you told him. You weren’t crying, you were just staring at him, all tired and drained. “You know that, right? You know I can’t.”

You felt for the ring on your finger. It had been there for two years already, a promise that was yet to be fulfilled. A promise that you had been waiting on for so long, one that never came and would never come.

He gripped the rails and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me."

He had a different look on his face, one that you wouldn’t have recognized two years ago but had become increasingly familiar with in the last few weeks. You were both tired, and that was never going to end well no matter what you did.

“Put me first,” you told him. Asking. Begging. Pleading. “Just put me first for once.”

You grip the railing now and you wonder why it didn’t end there. Because it didn’t. Somehow, you found it in yourselves to keep going, keep breathing life into the corpse that was the two of you for two more weeks.

You should’ve let it end there. Maybe it would’ve made more sense.

You wander to the kitchen, the place where you once considered that you might’ve been the happiest you’d ever be.

It was a Sunday night, Shoyo had spent his day off with you, going to your favorite spots around the city, having dinner at the place you two loved, lying on the couch and watching all the shows you’d missed. You found yourselves washing the bowls you’d used for ice cream, chatting about your day, the things you could do next week.

You thought that you were already happy then, that things couldn’t get much better, but Shoyo wasn’t having any of that.

As you placed the last bowl on the drying rack, you found your boyfriend on his knees. There was a ring in his hands. No box, just a ring. He later told you that he’d kept it in his pajama pocket because he was so scared of losing it and you’d laughed at him and told him you understood.

He was nervous, the words getting all jumbled in his mouth until all he could say was, “Do you—do you maybe wanna marry me?”

You nodded your head and leaned down to kiss him. He slid the ring onto your finger and you held him tight. You never wanted to let him go.

You twist the ring on your finger now. He told you to keep it, but you’d been contemplating giving it back. Maybe Sakusa could pass it along. Or Atsumu. Any one of your friends would do. You just know you can’t give it to him directly. He won’t have that.

You tap the kitchen table, still there, part of what you decided to sell with the house because neither of you wanted to keep it. You both know why, but you never said it out loud.

It was where things ended, more or less.

You had sat down for dinner, the week building up to that moment had been tense, but not anything special. You were bracing yourself for another fight, another cool down, another restless night of sleep before things went back to normal. You don’t know if you should’ve realized it was coming. You guess you never will.

“We need to talk,” he said and you listened.

You both poured out all the things that bothered you, the things you wanted to fix, the things that were clearly going wrong. It was a civil conversation, diplomatic and understanding. You talked and talked, trying to piece together the things neither of you could understand on your own. You thought it would work, you thought it was going well.

But it went on for too long. You circled around the same concerns again and again. You put things together only to watch them fall apart. It felt like building a sandcastle by the sea only for the whole thing to be washed away by the waves in seconds.

In the end, you realized that you were going nowhere. This was going nowhere.

So you stopped trying to fix it. You both did. There was no point trying to bring something back when it had clearly been gone for a while already.

You look at the table now. You look at the marks you left on it, where you had both engraved your initials. Shoyo had been so happy when you agreed to doing it.

“We’ll be here forever,” he told you as he pressed the cutter to the wood. His head was bent, focusing and carefully carving each stroke. 

You were sitting beside him, head on his shoulder. You smiled. “We’ll be here forever.”

notes. i’ve been in a weird place recently, picking at old wounds and all, so my writing’s been all over the place. i’m trying not to touch any of my series right now (mainly because i’m scared i’ll mess with the plots too much to backtrack), so here’s a little fic for now <3

[hqbaby]

breakup vacation — iwaizumi x reader

⋆｡°⋆✩ acting like our hearts won’t be breaking you and your boyfriend decide to spend the night together. one last time.

word count. 2.4k content. [18+] angst, explicit sexual content (oral sex f!receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, soft sad sex), cigarette use

“Here’s to us,” you say, taking your glass of champagne and raising it in toast.

Iwaizumi cracks a gentle smile and follows suit, raising his glass and clinking it against yours. “To us,” he says, “and the beginning of the end.”

You chuckle and take a sip of your drink. “The beginning of the end.”

The two of you sit in the middle of the restaurant, chatting away quietly and blending in with the rest of the couples in the room, like nothing is wrong. 

You’re both dressed up, you in a dainty white dress and him in a crisp suit. On the outside, you look like you’re celebrating an anniversary (maybe even heading towards a proposal, if you’re lucky). On the outside, you look like the perfect couple, the kind that will last years, the kind that will weather all possible storms. On the outside, you look like everything between the two of you will work out, like everything will be just fine.

On the outside, it doesn’t look like the two of you are breaking up.

No one would believe you if you told them. You don’t even know if you’d believe yourself.

Over dinner, the two of you skip the loaded conversations. You pretend that Iwaizumi’s plane isn’t coming to take him in the morning, whisk him away to some place you’ve never even been. You pretend that your apartment—the one that you shared for four long years—isn’t sitting in the middle of the city, empty and waiting for the next perfect couple to fill its walls with love and warmth. You pretend that you aren’t visiting your parents next weekend, aren’t going to have to tell them that the boy they refer to as their “son-in-law” might be someone they never see again.

You dance around your problems. You hint at them occasionally, the things better left unsaid. You tease one another, joke around, but you never go deeper, never ask the bigger questions. You’ve done enough of that for the last three months.

When you’re through with dinner, the two of you head back to your hotel room and Iwaizumi has his lips on yours before the door is even closed.

“Haji,” you murmur against him, pressing yourself into his touch as his hands roam your body, the body he knows so well.

His fingers glide over the surface of your skin, ghost over the fabric of your dress. “I want this to be perfect,” he tells you when he pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours. His hand goes to the zipper of your dress. “Can I?”

You can’t help but laugh. After all this time, he’s the same boy you met in college all those years ago, the one who was always so careful around you, always thought you were too good for him, always tried to be what you deserved.

“Of course,” you tell him, giving him a quick peck before trailing your lips down his neck. You suck at the junction right before his collarbone as he drags your zipper down. You can hear his breathing grow heavy in anticipation.

Iwaizumi slides the straps of your dress down and places featherlight kisses across your shoulders. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You run a hand through his hair and guide him to look at you. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you say, smiling. You stare into his eyes for a moment, getting lost in the green of them, ignoring the terrible thought in the back of your head that tells you that you’re never going to look at his eyes this way ever again.

He kisses you again before you can let your thoughts swallow you whole. 

His hands work to slide your dress off you, leaving you in nothing but lingerie. You remember when you picked out this particular set, when you dragged your entirely embarrassed boyfriend into a lingerie store at the mall and insisted he choose what he liked.

“I think you look great in anything,” he told you, keeping his eyes down as two women passed by, comparing the bras that they had selected. “I don’t really have much of an opinion on this.”

You held out the set you were looking at. “What about this one?”

He dared to look, gulping when his eyes landed on the black fabric, all intricately embroidered with tiny roses. The image of you wearing it flashed through his head and he stared back at the ground.

“I think we should go home.”

A laugh. “Are you hard right now?”

“Don’t say that out loud!”

Iwaizumi leads you to the bed, laying you down and crawling until he’s right between your legs. He glances up at you, corners of his lips quirking upwards before he slides your panties down and kisses your thighs.

You pant as his lips get closer and closer to where you want him, until he places a kiss on your clit and you let out a moan.

“Gonna make this perfect,” he tells you before diving in, his tongue coming out to slide between your folds.

“H-Haji,” you whimper, moaning as he alternates between sucking your clit and licking your cunt. He’s done this a million times before, but you can never seem to get enough of it. He could do this forever and you wouldn’t mind.

But you won’t have forever to spend with him.

You savor every second of this, every time he drags his tongue through your slick pussy, every time he prods and presses against your clit, every time he stops to place a kiss on your inner thigh. You try to remember the way he makes every part of you tingle, the way he brings you closer and closer to your high.

He slides a finger into you and you arch your back and grab his hair.

“Fuck!” You moan. “Right there, Haji, right there.”

“Here?” he says against your weeping cunt and he curls his finger, making you see stars at his touch.

The coil in your stomach grows impossibly tight and your grip on his hair grows stronger. He groans against you as he licks and sucks at your pussy, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

You let out a sinful moan. “I’m coming, Haji!” you scream as you feel yourself come undone on his tongue.

He continues to lap at your cunt as you ride out your high, legs shaking as the pleasure overwhelms you. “So sweet,” he says. “So perfect.”

When you come down from your high, you sit up and pull his face towards yours, kissing him deeply. His tongue slides into your mouth and you moan when you taste yourself on him.

Hastily, you start to unbuckle his pants, pushing his belt aside and unzipping his fly. “Need you inside me,” you tell him, the ache in your core growing again.

He chuckles and helps you pull his pants down. “Always so impatient,” he says, pumping his length in his hands. He lays you back down and presses a kiss to your cheek, teasing your entrance with his tip. “You ready, sweet thing?”

You nod, hands already coming to grip the sheets. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you always know to brace yourself.

Iwaizumi slides his length into you, filling you up in a way that’s so familiar, so normal and yet always so intense. He bottoms out and you feel his tip press against your cervix.

You throw your head back and let out a moan, hands coming to grab his back.

He starts to move, slow but deep and hard. You can feel his length glide through your walls, your slick coating him and forming a white ring at the base of his cock. You dig your nails into his skin and you hear him groan as he starts to move impossibly deeper.

“So fucking good.” He hisses as you clench around him. He presses his forehead against yours and you find yourself staring straight at him, his eyes boring into yours. “I love you.”

The words hit you like acid.

What if no one ever loves you again?

You feel a tear slip from your eye and you smile up at him. “I love you too,” you tell him. He hits a particularly delicious spot inside you and your hand flies to the nape of his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. “I love you so much.”

You watch as his eyes start to well up too, tears sliding from his cheek to yours. “I love you,” he says, his thrusts becoming erratic. He’s pounding into you now, his hands coming to hold your face as he drives into your sore cunt. “I love you so fucking much.”

You can feel another orgasm building and you hold onto Iwaizumi for dear life. “I love you.”

Your orgasm washes over you and you can’t help but scream as your boyfriend chases his high, thrusting into you at a mind numbing pace.

“Fucking love you,” he groans, getting closer, “Gonna come!”

You moan as you feel the warmth of his cum fill you, the squelching sound between your legs loud and clear as Iwaizumi fucks you through his high.

After a moment, he collapses on top of you and holds your head to his chest. The two of you lie in silence as you cry, holding each other close.

It hits you that this is the last night you’ll ever spend together. When Iwaizumi leaves in the morning, there will be nothing left of the two of you. Nothing else to return to.

You mourn the life you could have lived. You cry for the people you will never be. You give yourselves this moment to grieve.

What else is there to do?

“What was your favorite part?”

You're both out on the balcony, passing a cigarette between the two of you. You’re both trying to stretch this moment out, make it last as long as possible. But the world continues to move beneath you. The lights from the city continue to flash. Life goes on, no matter how much you wish it would stop for just a moment.

“My favorite part?” you ask him, raising a brow. A harsh gust of wind hits you and you fight the urge to shiver. “Favorite part of what?”

Iwaizumi takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. “Of us.”

You hum thoughtfully, pulling the piece of clothing around you. “Coming home to you was always nice,” you tell him. “I remember calling my mom the first time I came home after we moved in together.” A smile finds its way to your lips. “I was so excited, so giddy. And I never stopped feeling that way. The thought of coming home to you always made me sick to my stomach in the best way possible.”

You catch him staring at you with that same awestruck look you’ve grown accustomed to. You think about how lucky you must be to have found someone who can make you feel like being loved so terribly, so immensely is normal. You’ve never wanted more from Iwaizumi, he always gave you more than you needed.

“What about you?” you ask, taking a drag of the cigarette. “What was your favorite part?”

You watch his face contort in deep thought, as if he’s scouring the recesses of his mind to find the moment, the point in time when he thought that what you two had was everything he wanted and more.

His face lights up. “When you asked for my pen.”

“What?” A laugh sputters out of you. “When was that?”

He shrugs, a little shy now. But he could never really be shy around you. “When we were in school,” he tells you. “And I went through that phase when I never had a pen on me. So I kept asking for yours.”

“We hardly knew each other back then.”

“Yeah, but it was still my favorite part.”

You bite the insides of your cheek to keep your smile from growing too wide. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he tells you, grinning that boyish grin of his. “But you love it.”

You nod. “I do,” you say, your smile starting to crack as you feel the tears spring from your eyes again. “I really do.”

He leans over to cup your cheeks. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t cry. We’ve done enough crying.”

“I know,” you choke out, trying to keep your tears at bay. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

You move your hand to cup his. “I don’t think I’ll ever love someone as much as I love you,” you admit. “And I'm not even scared of never loving again… I’m scared of knowing that I won’t ever have you again.”

Iwaizumi kisses your forehead and lets his lips linger on your skin. “You don’t know that,” he tells you. “We might find each other again.”

Part of you wants to believe him, but part of you knows that—even if you do, by some miracle, find each other again—things will never be the same. You will never be the people that you are in this moment, the two people who love each other to the point of ache, the point of no return.

There’s no going back to this moment. There’s no chance that you’ll find your way back here again.

But he inches away from your forehead and stares at you with those eyes of his, silently pleading for you to disagree with the facts, to deny the truth. What’s the point of the truth now anyway?

“We might find each other again,” you say. “And we’ll be okay.”

Iwaizumi nods. “We’ll be okay.”

The bed is cold when you wake up. You stare at the empty space beside you for the longest time, blinking in the cold morning light, hardly believing that any of this is real, wondering how you’re even supposed to go on after this. 

You don’t know how, but you manage to find the strength to sit up. Face the music.

You look around the empty hotel room. You note the space where Iwaizumi’s bags were just last night, note how they’re not there anymore. You try not to cry again. 

How could someone go from being the love of your life to an absence you will forever try to fill?

You reach for your phone to check the time. You wish you hadn’t.

hajime: i love you. i always will.

notes. smut and angst 😌 my favorite combo 😌 i'm so happy to be back 😌

[hqbaby]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 — WITH SAKUSA

What happens when love just isn’t enough anymore?

WORD COUNT! 1411

GENRE! angst

WARNINGS! not much, it's just Sad

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

Enough was enough.

For years, you’d resigned yourself to the role of the supportive girlfriend. You had loved him and cared for him, you had followed him and allowed his life to dictate the decisions you made for yours, you had uprooted your whole life for him and chosen to do things because you knew they were the choices he needed you to make.

And you never complained. Until now.

“Do you even love me anymore?” you asked, tears streaming down your face as you stared Sakusa dead in the eye.

You were standing with your arms hanging limp at your sides and, as much as you tried to look strong, to stand your ground, to insist that you be heard, you’d been arguing with him for the past few hours and you were just flat out tired.

Sakusa had been sitting at the table with his head in his hands. Long ago, he had told you that you were the only thing he was certain he did right in his life. And, that night, he hadn’t wanted to look at you; not when everything was going wrong.

But the moment the question slipped through your lips, his head shot up and he saw you standing there, hurt and completely worn-out. He frowned.

“Of course I love you,” he said angrily. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You shook your head. He wasn’t supposed to be mad, you were the one who should have been raising your voice, not him.

“Are you having an affair?”

“What? No!”

“Then why?” you sobbed. “Why are you never here? Why do you never call? Why do you go days on end without coming home or at least telling me where you are? All I do is sit here, alone and worried, only to find out that you’re just at work again. Do my feelings not matter to you at all?”

“Of course they do!” he insisted.

The words tasted bitter on his tongue. As he said them, he became acutely aware of the fact that they seemed a lot like a lie. But he wasn’t lying. Of course he wasn’t. He would never lie to you. So why did he feel like he was?

You rolled your eyes and sat in the seat across his, legs growing weaker with every sob you let out. “Is that really what you think?” you asked. You would have sounded annoyed if you hadn’t been crying for the past hour. Now, you just sounded hurt. “Because if this is what you caring for my feelings is like, I don’t want it. It’s not enough.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m done, Kiyoomi,” you told him. “This isn’t right anymore and, if you can’t see that, then I’m not gonna make you fix something you don’t think needs fixing.”

Sakusa stared at you in shock. You’d had fights before, some even worse than this one. But you never said things like that, you never said you were going to leave.

Maybe, some voice in the back of his head told him, because you had never wanted to leave before.

And this time, maybe you actually did.

Taking his silence as an answer to all your questions, you walked out of the room and into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed out of pure exhaustion.

After a few moments, still in shock, Sakusa mindlessly wandered off to follow you. When he found you asleep on the bed, he turned around, deciding to stay in the guest room instead. Was this really happening?

Hours passed, and sometime in the middle of the night, you woke up. When you turned to your side and didn’t find Sakusa there, you wished you could’ve said you were surprised. But you weren’t. You’d woken up to an empty bed one too many times in the past few months—this wasn’t anything new.

With a pit in your stomach and a burning in your throat from the cry you were trying your best to hold in, you made your way to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge and allowing the dark room to be filled with its harsh light, you reached in and grabbed the ice cream you insisted you weren’t going to eat until Friday. Then, out of pure muscle memory, you pulled out two spoons from the drawer and only realized what you had done by the time you were sitting on the counter and wondering what to do with the extra spoon… the one you always got for him.

Somehow, in spite of everything he’d put you through, you still cared about him. Even if he’d already stopped caring about you.

Sobbing into the carton of ice cream, you almost didn’t hear the sound of feet padding into the room. Almost.

“Omi?” you called out, eyes clearly not functioning in the pitch black darkness of the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” his voice said, raspy with sleep. “What are you doing up?”

The lamp on one of the tables flicked on and you hissed at the sudden light.

Sakusa chuckled as he found you on top of the counter, squinting and hunched over a pint of ice cream. “Sorry.”

You reached for the extra spoon you’d placed by your side and held it out for him to take. “Eat it before I finish it all.”

“I don’t mind letting you finish it,” he said, taking a seat on the counter beside you and fiddling with the spoon you’d shoved into his hand.

“Stop acting like a gentleman and eat,” you told him, guiding his hand to force him into getting a spoonful of ice cream. “Besides, I’ll get fat if I eat it all.”

Sakusa shot you an amused look as he stuck the spoon into his mouth. “And why would that matter?”

You nudged his arm playfully and gently started to sway back and forth. “You always know what to say.”

Sakusa frowned, your fight from a few hours ago suddenly filling his head. “Not always,” he murmured.

Nodding and staring off into the room, you sighed. “Yeah,” you said. “Not always.”

The silence in the room settled for a moment. You expected the tension from your unfinished argument to overwhelm the two of you and eventually materialize into some sort of outburst, but it didn’t. Instead, the two of you just sat there in your kitchen and ate ice cream in the middle of the night. Like you always did.

Eventually, when the two of you realized that something had to be said, it was Sakusa who chose to take on the responsibility.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words falling seamlessly onto the silence the two of you had built. “I’ve been the worst to you. I’m barely around and, even when I am, I don’t make you feel like I want to be. I guess I did stop caring about your feelings somewhere along the way.”

“Omi, I—”

“I do love you though,” he said, turning to look at you. “I really do.”

You stared at your feet. “I love you too,” you admitted. “But that’s not enough, is it?”

Sakusa clenched his jaw. As much as he wanted to tell you that you were wrong, and that loving each other was all that mattered, and that everything else that was broken between the two of you were just semantics, and that this was just a rough patch that you would get through, he knew that wasn’t the truth.

He knew that you deserved to be cared for. He knew that you deserved to be properly loved. He knew that you deserved to be in a relationship where you felt like you were actually wanted. He knew you deserved to have something that was enough for you. And he knew he wasn’t going to give you any of that, even if he wanted to.

So he nodded and looked at you properly one last time and, in you, he saw the one thing he had loved with all his heart and the one thing he had broken with all his might. In you, he saw the one thing he hadn’t wanted to let go of and the one thing he had allowed to slip away. In you, he saw the one he was certain he had done right in his life and the one thing he knew he’d turned terribly wrong.

He knew that he loved you but—

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s not enough.”

a/n: i have no idea if that was any good but i felt really happy making it (not because of the story but because of the fact that i was actually writing something) so i thought i might as well put it up here!

[hqbaby]

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 — WITH KAGEYAMA

What happens when you commit the ultimate act of betrayal?

WORD COUNT! 618

GENRE! fluffff

WARNINGS! nothing, just excessive fluff

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Then what is it exactly?” Kageyama shrieked, his voice reaching a pitch you hadn’t previously known was humanly possible. He had an accusatory finger pointed at you as his eyes flickered between your guilt-ridden face and... your hand, the hand that held—

“I didn’t mean to drink your milk!” you said, eyes pleading for mercy as you held the carton out for him to take. “I was just really thirsty and it was in my hand and I wasn’t thinking and I acted on instinct! I’m so, so, so, so sorry!”

You and your boyfriend were frozen for a moment, emotions having run so high you were only now realizing how silly the two of you looked.

Kageyama slowly tucked his finger back into his fisted hand and lowered his arm, his expression remaining unchanged.

“I’ll buy you a new one?” you offered hesitantly, lips curling into an apologetic smile. “I really didn’t mean to drink it.”

Your boyfriend sighed, looking down in a fake pout. “I guess that’ll have to do,” he mumbled. Then, a thought popping into his head, he looked back up at you with a sly, little grin that screamed bad intentions. “But I’m pretty sure I should get a little extra for having to deal with your betrayal, don’t you think?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t like where this is going,” you said, remembering all the times you had done something “a little extra” to make up for wronging Kageyama. “I’m not spiking for you again if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His face fell. “What? Why not?” he asked. “Am I really that bad of a setter?”

Laughing at your boyfriend’s sudden change of demeanour, you shook your head. “It’s not that,” you assured him. “I’m just terrible at spiking.”

“No, you’re not,” he said solemnly, shaking his head. “You just need a little more practice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure,” you said sarcastically. “Baby, the last time you made me spike for you, I kicked you in the—”

“Alright, fine I won’t let you spike,” he conceded, shuddering slightly at the memory of your last attempt. “But I still want something for being betrayed.”

You stepped closer to him and leaned forward, placing a kiss on his cheek. “There,” you said, watching as your usually terrifying boyfriend turned red at the unexpected affection. “That good enough for now?”

Kageyama scoffed, as you shot him a teasing smirk. “Whatever,” he said, taking your hand to drag you away, walking in front of you to avoid letting you see his still-blushing face. “Come on. We can’t be late for class.”

When you got to your classroom, Kageyama let go of your hand and nodded for you to go on in. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he said, giving you an awkward wave and turning to walk to his classroom down the hall.

You caught his wrist. “Tobio, wait,” you said. “You forgot something.”

He looked back at you and, for a moment, it felt a lot like a scene out of a movie, the one one where the two lovers stare at each other like there’s no one else in the room as the romantic music begins to swell in the background.

You both opened your mouths to speak.

“I love you.”

“You forgot your milk.”

Kageyama gaped in embarrassment at his sudden declaration, his eyes landing on your hand that held out the carton of milk. “Oh,” he said, taking it from your gingerly and staring at the floor. “Right.”

You chuckled and cupped his cheek, guiding his head up to look at you. “I love you too.”

“Sure, traitor.”

“I said I was sorry!”

a/n : i've been writing too much angst so here's some random fluff! this was just fun to write so i thought i'd share it here. this has been a blast<33

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