“I can’t do this.” Kageyama digs his nails into the palms of his hands until the skin goes pale. Hajime has to pry his grip apart before he really hurts himself. It’s been years, but he can’t stop feeling responsible. And proud, too, always that.

“Look.” Hajime puts both of Kageyama’s hands into one of his, runs a hand through his hair, patient until Kageyama manages to glance at him.

Right, Hajime thinks when he has to tilt his chin up, taller than me. “You’ll do fine,” he says out loud. “Don’t be afraid. He won’t reject you.”

“But what if he does? What if he doesn’t like me after all this time?”

Hajime sighs and wonders why he can feel a familiar hint of fondness in his chest. “If an ordinary guy like me can confess to a brilliant madman and stay his boyfriend for five years and counting, then a genius like you can ask Hinata out already.”

Kageyama swallows hard. He nods.

A week later, a text arrives on Hajime’s phone. It says: One day and counting.

keijisthighs:

this is a MESS but i drew braces!hinata because @moami‘s writing makes me want to draw and @kkumri‘s art also makes me want to draw

(ft. freckles hina because i am weak)

[braces!hinata comes from this fic and this art]

I made a soft, tiny gasp at ths. Look at this beam of sunlight! His eyes are so beautiful, I’m dying, and his freckles are precious. I think Hinata would definitely choose that hue of orange for his braces. Thank you so much for this, I’m happy to receive this fanart. ♥

The last minutes before a game are usually a time of meditation for Kageyama, but it’s just not working today. If they lose against Seijouh, there’s no chance to go to nationals. And yet… Kageyama tilts his head and frowns. That’s strange.

“Hinata.”

“Huh? Coming!” There’s a squeak of shoes on the gym floor, and Hinata appears by his side. “What is it? Are you getting scared again?” He grins.

“Idiot,” Kageyama growls, “of course not. But – look. Over there.”

Hinata is still snickering, but he looks across the gym to where Kageyama points. The team of Seijouh is standing in a circle, apparently discussing something. Their coach is a bit aside, arms cross, face stern and hard. But what Kageyama is showing him happens a few steps to the left, where the team has entered the court and one of the double doors is still open.

It’s the ace of Seijouh, Hinata recognises him, and – oh. Oikawa. Something seems to be happening, because the ace (Iwaizumi, now Hinata remembers) reaches for Oikawa’s shoulders and grabs him. “Do you think they’re fighting?” Hinata bites his lip. “Dunno,” Kageyama mumbles. His frown deepens. “Maybe they’re talking about a secret technique-”

That’s when Iwaizumi’s hand slides into Oikawa’s neck, and they kiss.

The noise that Hinata makes is close to choking. Kageyama can practically feel his cheeks go red. “N-no secret technique,” he whispers. “They didn’t do this back when I was there.”

“It looks weird,” Hinata says, still staring. “Kissing. Like. It’s weird, putting your lips together like that.”

“Yeah.” Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Anyways. Are you ready?”

“Wha- oh, yeah.”

The rest of Karasuno doesn’t even blink when Kageyama closes his arms around Hinata, and Hinata’s head falls against his chest. They stand, breathing together, waiting until their hearts beat in the same rhythm. Then Kageyama’s nose touches Hinata’s forehead.

“We’re gonna win.”

Hinata looks up at him, lips curled into a grin. “Yeah. We will.”

At first, Hinata doesn’t understand why Kageyama insist on this thing. Whenever they say goodbye, after their kiss at the crossroads that leads up the mountain, Kageyama reaches for Hinata’s sleeve. He tugs, just a tiny bit. Hinata then usually sighs and tiptoes to nuzzle his cheek and says something like “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend” or “I like you a lot.”

Today, he’s in a hurry. Kageyama barely catches him after training, because Hinata’s racing to his bike, panicking about the dentist appointment he can’t be late to. “Hinata!” Kageyama calls, but there’s no time. “I’ll call you later tonight,” is all Hinata manages to say before he climbs onto his bike. “Sorry! Bye!”

When he comes back from the dentist, his mother spares him from watching Natsu and lets Hinata go to his room until dinner. He hugs her tightly before running off, pain still throbbing in his cheek. Reaching for his phone, Hinata checks his messages – and freezes.

Do you want to break up? From Kageyama.

What the hell! No! Why, do you? He wants to call, wants to know, but Kageyama doesn’t pick up and instead there’s a new message.

You didn’t say you liked me today.

Hinata wants to hit him at first. Of course he hasn’t stopped liking Kageyama within a day! But then again… it’s Kageyama. They have their rituals, their rules, and Kageyama struggles with – things. Hinata catches himself smiling. He’ll say it every day, twice, four or five times, until it’s carved into Kageyama’s heart.

I like you. A lot. Still do. Kiss me tomorrow morning, okay?

The reply is immediate, and Hinata squeezes his phone tightly.

Okay. I like you the best.

Idiot, Hinata thinks, and my boyfriend. Maybe they’ll kiss a bit longer tomorrow.

The man’s breath reeks of cheap beer and old cigarette smoke clinging to rotten teeth. Tooru has seen the silhouette of a knife in his pocket before the man has even sat down on the bar stool by his side and smile at him with a lick of his fleshy tongue over thin lips. “Well, ain’t ya a pretty one,” the man slurs, grinning. Tooru tilts his head and smiles like honey. “Do you want to buy me a drink?”

Of course the man wants to. He wants even more, his filthy lips say, and Tooru is almost bored by the obvious slide of greedy eyes up and down his body. Hajime keeps throwing him quick glances from the other side of the club; there’s no worry in them, just impatience. He holds Hinata and Kageyama by their collars, they sit by his side, hands curled into fists where they don’t cling to each other’s. Hajime’s lips form silent words. ‘Hurry. They’re hungry.’

Tooru touches the man’s arm. His lips curve a bit more, he stands. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” How naive can someone be, Tooru thinks when the man’s black-dirty eyes light up with unconcealed lust, to think that he gets anything without paying a price?

“Wait. Where are we going?” The man begins to understand when Tooru’s already led him into a room that’s covered in pure white tiles. The door slams shut behind them; voices echo through the corridor they just walked, and Tooru keeps smiling, smiling, milky-sweet teeth and a soft tongue flicking his lips. “Who are you,” is all the man can say before Tooru gently puts a finger on his mouth – and shoves him onto the floor.

“It’s so easy to find food these days.”

The door slams open. Three silhouettes push inside, two growling in triumph and jolting forward. Tooru steps aside. Hajime comes to stand beside him, leaning in to kiss Tooru’s cheek. “Just in time,” he says, his smile tiny around needle-sharp teeth and the red glow of his two eyes, three, four, as the hidden ones on his forehead open and the horns slide back out from his hair.

“Don’t worry,” Tooru tells the man over his own gurgling screams. “You may survive this. If the young ones can control themselves.” He laughs, watching Hinata’s fangs dig into the man’s throat to share the best blood with Kageyama, their horns now visible again, claws scratching over the floor, and the hundreds of eyes on their skin opening to witness their meal.

Could you please write a fluff/smut kagehina ? Because i wanna heal my broken soul after watching the newest hq ep ;; ;;

When they first fall asleep in their new bed, the whole house smelling foreign and weighing heavily with silence, the still-unopened moving boxes dark shadows against the wall, that is when Kageyama pulls Hinata closer and buries his face into the soft hair of his neck. “I hope you won’t regret this,” he says.

“Good night,” Hinata chuckles and takes Kageyama’s hand, pulling it over his waist so he can press it against his heart to fall asleep under his boyfriend’s touch.

When their first attempt at cooking goes horribly wrong, the fire alarm screeching above their heads until Kageyama figures out how to turn it off while Hinata throws away the burnt pasta sauce, that is when they sit on the floor together and hold hands, staring at the speckles of tomato all over the tiles. “I’m sorry it’s not perfect,” Kageyama says.

“We can just order pizza,” Hinata smiles and kisses his cheek before he gets up to find a towel. They clean the mess together.

When there’s been a week of barely seeing each other, for the first time ever, their hands not having touched since Sunday and the calender now whispers seven, seven days, when their lips haven’t found each other’s warmth in what feels like years and there’s a fight about something so small and so stupid that it brings tears to Hinata’s eyes and a loss of words into Kageyama’s throat, that is when Kageyama opens his arms to hug his boyfriend until he stops crying. “I wish I was a better person,” Kageyama whispers into Hinata’s hair. “I’ll fix this.”

“We’ll be okay,” Hinata says into his chest. He wipes his tears and lifts himself up on his toes to kiss Kageyama, soft, smiling despite everything. “People fight. I still love you, idiot.”

And when they’re curled up on the couch afterwards, hands laced up as if the roots of two trees had found a way to hold each other up through the storm, that is when Hinata says:

“You know that you’re enough, right? Stop asking me if I regret this. I don’t. I won’t. You’re the best thing that I’ve ever fallen in love with.”

That is when Kageyama doesn’t ask another question, and lets Hinata kiss him until the tears in his eyes die and the warmth inside his chest embraces all of him.

Kageyama is kind of really, really pretty.

Hinata isn’t exactly jealous. Black hair wouldn’t look good on him – he’s pale already, no thank you – and he’s never wanted those clichée sky-blue eyes either. It only works on Kageyama.

“It’s unfair, you know,” Hinata whispers to Kageyama’s neck, where he’s buried his lips against soft skin and a slow-beating pulse. Kageyama is asleep. Training and homework exhausted both of them into a nap, but Hinata awoke first for once. He doesn’t bother with moving or untangling his fingers from the gentle grip of Kageyama’s bigger hand.

They fit together so well, it’s ridiculous. Hinata closes his eyes, breathes softly. He’s counted all the freckles on Kageyama’s nose twice, has memorized the curve of his lips, the warmth of his skin pressing against his own. Like a cartographer, he knows Kageyama by the valleys and hidden glades of his body, from the crease between his brows to the kindness of his fingertips against Hinata’s chest, his stomach, sitting reverently on his hips.

He smiles. “It’s unfair that you’re so beautiful, y’know.”

Kageyama’s life could have been easy.

Then, Hinata kisses him.

Just like that, his tiny soft mouth against Kageyama’s chapped, raw-bitten lips. It’s after their last spike against Shiratorizawa slams into the floor, victory pouring over them like a hurricane, waves from the crowd’s ear-shattering cries crashing down on the court. It’s Hinata’s last spike, and winning has never been sweeter than with Hinata’s ragged breath flooding into his body and curling around his heart.

One hour later, they fight. Kageyama says things he doesn’t mean, Hinata yells back, and then there’s horrible white silence because –

“You don’t love me,” comes out of Kageyama’s mouth. “You love the tosses I give you and the volleyball I play. Not me. You don’t, because you hate it when I touch you and you flinch, and you hate that I call you names – “

Hinata cries. It’s not pretty. His cheeks are red, eyes swollen. “You don’t get it,” says his soft voice when he grabs Kageyama and pulls him into a strong hug. Kageyama fights, struggles, tries to escape. He only goes silent when Hinata sobs something into his chest, face wet and salty.

“Yes, I like your hands when they toss, but I like them more when they hug me. I like when you yell commands and scream about winning, but I like it more when you kiss me and are really quiet or tell me that – that I’m your f-favourite person.” Hinata trembles, curls into Kageyama’s arms. “I wanna… be that, you know.”

“You are,” Kageyama says, and it comes out natural, gentle. And then – “okay.”

His life could have been easy, but he’s in love with Hinata. Nothing ever goes perfect for them, and that’s fine. Kageyama swears he’ll never stop trying.

For a long time, Kageyama is quite sad about every single animal being scared of him. He’s tried to feed and pet the neighbour’s cat, one of his teacher’s dogs, and he even built a nest for a hedgehog in his garden once. All of the animals made scared noises, immediately hiding from him. None would let Kageyama touch its fur or small paws, not caring how badly he wanted to pet and hold them.

But now it’s not so bad anymore. Ever since the day Hinata’s first roughly pushed his head into Kageyama’s hand after a great spike, Kageyama’s understood the way it works.

Hinata came to him on his own. He’s chosen Kageyama, and he’s decided that he wants to have those awkward shaky fingers on his head and gently tracing along his neck. Somehow, Kageyama has earned this honour.

And when he pets Hinata, this little bundle of sunshine makes a soft noise that’s better than any purr he could ever get from any animal in the whole wide world.

One day, Kageyama snaps.

Hinata stares at him when he tears his hand out of those warm fingers. When Kageyama stumbles back and slides down the wall of the locker room, shaking, blood rushing in his veins, and watches the harsh imprint of his own grip on Hinata’s hand go an angry crimson. “Why,” his voice is a mess, it always is after his outburst of aggression, this hopeless coping mechanism he still uses when things become overwhelming or he fucking fails in training, when he makes mistakes and people are too much, when he has to run and hide, when Hinata is still there even though he yells and is terrible, no friends, nobody wants him.

“Why are you doing this? You – you’re always there when I’m like this, when I h-hold you too tightly and hurt you – I don’t want to hurt you, but you keep coming after me and you even h-hug me when I cry. This isn’t… I don’t understand. God, explain it to me, Hinata. Why’re you here when I’m like this? I’m so – so angry, and I can’t – they’re all too much and I k-know they hate me, like my old team, but you. You… are here.” The sob tearing out of his throat is a wild animal, hurt and howling into the silence. He chokes. “Tell me why.”

And Hinata smiles at him with sorrow so deep and warm that Kageyama’s lungs and fucking throat and all of his scarred, dark-splattered insides rip apart.

“You really know nothing about love, Tobio.”