HEA

“Whatever the lady wishes,” he winks. There’s a smile on his lips and for once, it’s not something he subtly hides or tries to fight back so you don’t notice and point it out. He lets it happen. It stretches across his lips and lets that little dimple on his left cheek appear that makes you realize that Sukuna has moments where he’s less handsome and a little more cute. (You’d never tell him that, but you like to sit with the realization to yourself.)

You think that Sukuna is nicer after sex. Not because he gets his way, but because intimacy puts him in a good mood—being close to you makes him finally let his walls down. You think this version of him is a welcomed change of pace.

When he returns, he hands you a cold, tall glass of iced water with a bendy straw. You brighten at the sight of it.

“Did you know they have straws for anti-wrinkling?” you murmur.

“What are you on about?” he slumps back into bed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you sit up and take a sip of your water.

“It’s true,” you nod, “they have a straw that’s shaped weird so it doesn’t make you pucker your lips. It’s supposed to help with preventing wrinkles.”

“That’s stupid,” he mumbles.

“It is,” you nod, “they look silly. But maybe I’ll have to buy one so you don’t get tired of me quicker when I wrinkle.”

He makes a face. Almost offended but still a little amused. He scoffs as you set your glass down on your night stand and before you can even turn to him, he’s already tugged you down to lay back onto his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around you. (Post-sex Sukuna is also as as openly clingy as he is nice. You happen to also like this perk, as well.)

“You don’t need a stupid straw for wrinkles. That’s dumb as fuck.”

“But won’t my wrinkles make you bored of me?” you tease.

“No,” he says plainly. “Growing old with you can’t be so bad. I’ll probably age faster, anyway—you’ll give me gray hairs faster than you get wrinkles.”

“Not true,” you gasp, “you make me frown way more than I stress you out. I’ll age faster.”

“That’s rich,” he grins, “you wouldn’t last one day with yourself. It’s a miracle I haven’t gone insane.”

“You don’t need me for that,” you grumble.

He chuckles. It’s low and soft and a little less gruff and a little more boyish than he tends to let out, but post-sex Sukuna is a little easier to make laugh. He’s in a good mood when it’s you and him and crumpled sheets and a quiet room. He likes when you find his chest and he finds your waist and you both find each other. He likes when you kiss his jaw and he kisses your forehead and the little marks scattered on your skin from his love bites start to appear when time does its thing and the bruises make themselves known.

Sukuna is nicer after sex. He likes when your bodies do the talking and he doesn’t have to use his words. You know he loves you, and he seems to be in a better mood when he knows you’re reminded of the fact.

“You’d still love me if I was wrinkly, right?” you poke his chest with a teasing grin, “you wouldn’t leave me once I’m well past my prime?”

“If I leave you, you’d be an endangerment to society. I can’t let you run loose in the city.”

“Can’t you ever say something without throwing in an insult?” You huff.

He laughs. There’s a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. Your pout curls into a small grin against your will.

“Yes,” he snorts as he rolls his eyes, “I’d still love you with some goddamn wrinkles. Happy?”

“Very. I’d love you with gray hair,” you pat his chest, “don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worrying.”

“You should,” you nod with faux-seriousness, “because gray hairs would not be an issue, but baldness might. You better hope you don’t bald with age because I’m not into bald men.”

“I’m starting to think you’re more shallow than you let on,” he pokes your ribs.

You giggle. That sound coaxes another peck to your lips from him because he can’t quite help himself when he hears it, and when he grins at you as he pulls away, eyes a little softer than usual, you take your chance to cup his cheek and pull him into a proper kiss.

“I’ll never invest in an anti wrinkle straw if you never invest in hair dye,” you offer.

“Deal,” he scoffs in amusement, “what a relief. I was worried for a moment, there.”

“Since I’m so nice and don’t hold you to unreasonable standards that make aging seem like a bad thing,” you drawl, tracing his chest with a delicate, mischievous finger, “you should treat me to something to eat, too. I’m hungry.”

“Yeah? Shocker,” he grunts, grabbing his phone as he starts to order you food. He asks what you want—he knows the answer before you even reply, but he asks anyway because you like to feel as though you have options.

“You’re so nice,” you beam when he pays, pecking his cheek swiftly. “Here’s a kiss for your troubles.”

He rolls his eyes. There’s a stupid grin on his face, and he taps his cheek as he murmurs, “Nope. Not gonna cut it. Taxes are higher than that around here.”

Sukuna is nice after sex. You happen to still like him before and after, though.

kageyama had flown back to italy a week later reluctantly—his team needed him for the final games of the season after his extended absence and you had pushed for him to return to his career. 

he had done enough, for you, for your grandmother, for the both of you. 

he had done enough, and it was time for you to get back on your feet by yourself, so you asked him to go.

there was a few phone calls here and there, short and precise in themselves since he was getting back into the swing of things and the intensity of the volleyball league, playing catch up with the month that he was away for. 

kageyama seemed worried about you, but you didn't mind that too much. you needed to learn how to live with the grief that is left behind in the vacuum of your beloved grandmother by yourself. 

it was your own weight to bear. 

since you had taken off for the rest of the season, you decided to stay just a little longer in the house you grew up in, saying goodbyes to the moments you will never experience again, saying farewells to the warmth that you will never feel again. 

you still cried at the memories that surface, at the thought that they will be permanently that—memories living in the past—but—it gets easier to breathe. 

you felt less guilty at the thought of moving on—in the sense of going back to living your life again, no longer stuck in limbo with grief. as much as one can move on from the loss of a loved one. 

even though there are days where you wake up swimming in that fresh sense of loss, you are glad for the moments you get to live through again in your dreams, each one of them feeling as vivid as reality. you wish you could go back in time and tell yourself that it is alright to take your time. 

it is alright to wake up crying tears of happiness at seeing your grandmother again, to feel her warmth as though it was real. because they were real. 

you wish you could have told yourself to be gentler with your own grief. 

in a year, you would be waking up in your own bed, turning away from the soft beams of the morning sun, smiling with a full face of tears when tobio asks you if you are alright. you would tell him that you saw her again, and she was happy. he would gently scoop you into his arms and wipe your tears dry, murmuring a 'do you want to tell me about it?' to which you nod. 

in a year, you are learning how to live with your grief—how to be happy again even with it. 

a lot has happened in the span of the last year. 

grief and loss still calls your heart a home, but you are learning to be gentle with it. 

for now—for now you bask in tobio's warmth, in the safety of his love. 

your voice breaks every now and then, but he listens intently, eyes soft with understanding. the caress of his thumb against the small of your back is encouraging and gentle.

you still wonder what you might have done right to deserve him. to deserve a love that does not judge but seek to understand. 

because to be loved is to be known. 

and gods, do you feel known by kageyama tobio, who had seen your broken and battered pieces and decided to staywhen most people would have walked away or turned the other way. he stayed and held your hand through it all, patiently and attentively. 

you cup the curve of his cheek, gaze full of adoration.

"i was thinking, do you remember the first time i showed up at your apartment here?" 

"unannounced, but yes." he frowns at the question harmlessly.

"and you dropped your groceries?" you giggle. 

he makes a noncommital noise, a hint of redness heating his cheeks. 

“you could have walked away. when i came back knocking on your door, you could have walked away.”

“i know. i chose to keep loving you.” he says the words without any doubt, like it is a fact in itself. 

"there was a nonzero chance i choose to stay in that marriage."

the frown etches itself deeper between his brows. you could sense the displeasure rolling off him in waves at the implication of your statement. 

—but that was never your intended direction. 

"that was never—it never mattered to me when it came to you." his hand grips your waist tightly. "your happiness is all that mattered."

your hand twitches reflexively against his face. 

you had a feeling—that he put you above all, even himself. the past year had been nothing if not evidence of it, but to hear him say it, confirm your suspicions… 

"it shouldn't be." sadness tugs at your heart, of the thought of how little he values himself sometimes.

"huh?" he pulls away, lips downturned as he stares at you hard. the walls he so religiously guard are being fortified between you instinctively, to protect. 

the shrill sound of an alarm going off on his nightstand breaks the tense moment. 

"i have to go," tobio mutters, sliding out under the covers. 

you blink, lips parting to say something to save the situation from worsening, but nothing comes. 

"we'll talk later." he says softly over his shoulder, half turned towards you. 

the distance between widens you as the bathroom door shuts quietly. you rub a hand over your face, chastising yourself for bringing this up without thinking through it properly, right at the edge of an important match nonetheless. 

but he had been patient with you. all this time, he had been patiently waiting for you.

the least you could do is return the favor, even if it kills you waiting. 

so you watch as he pulls a sweatshirt on, hair still damp from his quick shower. you don't move to stop him, to keep him and beg him to spill the thoughts brimming at the edges of his mind. 

he turns away before you could kiss him goodbye. 

how did everything go downhill so quickly?

what you don't know—didn't expect, however, is the completely opposite direction that kageyama is taking your words and running with. 

did you not love him anymore? did he do something wrong? why wouldn't you want him to prioritize you if you still loved him? did you find someone better?

questions that kageyama thought he had laid to rest a long time ago. ghosts that he accepted when he chose to keep loving you without the slightest glimmer of a chance for himself. 

did you meet someone better? 

his neatly trimmed nails leave the most pitiful indents in the flesh of his palms. 

he prefers to get the tightness suffocating his lungs out by practicing his serves during warmup for the match anyway. 

his team notices it, he is sure of it. they try a little harder, push themselves a little further to keep up.

by the time the whistle blow at the start of the match, kageyama is ready to take the fight onto the court. he's used to sharpen his emotions into weapons to fuel his seamless perfectionism—today would be no different. 

except—today feels different. 

—like his world tilted on its axis by the smallest fraction. barely perceptible for anyone else, but enough for him to notice. 

it starts small. the sets vary by a hair's breadth. nothing of note, but the longer they go on, the deeper the crease between his brows become. 

the more he tries to correct the course, the more it starts to vary. 

until the one set that wavers, missing its target entirely. 

there was a split second of silence before the crowd erupts into disproportional parts of joy and disbelief. 

silence that lasted for a mere fraction of time, between when the ball slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a thud too loud and a foot too far out from his spiker. silence that was utterly deafening and all consuming. 

a blink. 

kageyama feels it then, finds the name for the coldness in his digits and the sweat running down his brow, that slimy thing crawling between the ridges of his ribs—fear.

what good is he if his efforts only make things worse? 

the fear of everything he touches becoming worse. 

the sharp shrill that cuts through the jumble of noise to award the set to the opponents.

his teammates clap him on the back, as they pass by, full of encouragements for the next set. mancini, his captain slings an arm over his shoulders and tells him to shake off the mistake as they gather around the coaching team.

he is fully expecting them to bench him after that piss poor performance on court for the opening set of one of the most high profile games in the season. maybe a good scolding or two for the rookie mistake in the last point that changed the momentum of the game. 

all he gets is encouragement to keep doing what he's doing and maintain the offensive pressure against their opponents. he finds himself at a loss for words when their head coach asks if he is doing alright. 

confused, and upset, mainly at himself—because why aren't they asking him what went wrong? how did he fuck up such a simple set, at a point where the opponents were out of system, where mancini would definitely have brought them to a deuce if he didn't fuck up?

"sub me out," kageyama hears himself saying. his teammates look at him in surprise, but his coach only nods, asking him to let them know when he feels ready to go back in. 

he needs to be able to give his best. what's the point of his being there if he can't do even that? 

"what's wrong?" mancini takes a seat on the bench next to him as the second set starts. 

kageyama startles to see his captain sitting this set out as well. 

"my sets are not good today." he stares at his hands. a towel sits on his head, dangling above his shoulders. 

"they are as good as always, tobio." 

"they are off."

his comment earns a low chuckle from his captain. 

"by your standards, perhaps?"

"what do you mean?" kageyama furrows his eyebrows at the reply, curling his hands into fists, testing out the stretch of his muscles. ignoring the coldness that is slowly corroding the system. 

"you haven't noticed? you tend to hold yourself to perfectionism, like anything less than perfect is not acceptable."

"that's not—" he shakes his head. "that's not what it is, i just want to do the best of my abilities that i know i can achieve."

"i understand. you are one of the best setters i have ever played with, by far. but maybe give yourself a little grace. we are not machines, we are humans, and humans make mistakes. that's alright too." he pats kageyama's arm in encouragement as his number gets called. "come back when you are ready. your sets are good. we need you to win the game, you know?"

it makes sense, but also not exactly? why would anyone want anything less than his best? how would he be any different than everyone else if he isn't constantly pushing his own limits? why would anyone choose him if he is less than his best? 

why would you choose him if he is less than his best? 

he is trying his damned hardest to silence the voices stoking his tumble into the darkness. 

—would you still choose him if he is less than his best?

kageyama hesitates. the team slips further behind in the second set. 

a few rows above, you watch from the vip stands reserved for corporate sponsors, players' guests and the like. it quells the loud voices in his head, knowing that things are not so bad because you are here. if things were bad, you would not be here, right?

but the fact is—he does not know. 

that unsettles him more than anything, scares him more than any opponent he has ever faced, oikawa-san included. 

the ride home is quiet, painfully so. 

kageyama thinks of the usual chatter about their plays that fill the space after matches, of the comfortable silence that wraps around you like a warm embrace in between. 

this silence is nothing like that. 

he would rather throw himself out of the moving car than talk about whatever that was today—he ended up sitting out the whole second set before returning mid third set, attempting to renew their attempts at offensive plays and convert points. with him on court, they had cinched the latter two sets, only to lose the fifth set after bringing them to a deuce five times. 

he tries to think about something else, anything else, but all he can think of is your words to him earlier that day and what you are trying to hint at. 

his teammates only made everything worse by confirming his beliefs. 

the creeping fear of losing everything good his hands touch mixed with the churning in his stomach makes him want to throw up.

if he learnt anything from experience, it is that it is always better to rip the damned bandaid off before it becomes ingrained in your skin. 

unfortunately for him, you have long since become natural for him. 

you keep looking over at him, hesitating. he could tell you are at the precipice of something you are afraid to speak out loud. 

kageyama breaks the silence first, unable to stand his own thoughts any longer. 

"are you breaking up with me?" 

"what—" you look over at him, eyes wide as though he caught you having a late night onigiri snack without him. you slam on the brakes, coming to a stop much too close to the car in front of you for either of your comfort. 

"earlier, in bed. you said something about how i shouldn't prioritize you." he looses a breath shakily. "are you saying that to let me down easily? did you find someone you are interested in? when—"

"tobio." he wonders why his name sounds like a prayer on your lips still. "hold on, let me pull the car over."

the loud voices in his head take over between that moment and the next as you put the car in park, between you—his sun—turning away from him and returning your whole attention on him again. 

he would miss this. gods. they have been toying with him this entire time. 

"where is this coming from?" you ask him gently, smaller hands grasping his larger ones, but he feels so small under your gaze then. 

"you wanted me to stop prioritizing your happiness, which means you don't need me anymore, right? because, you know." he stops speaking, the last words coming out as a whisper because he would much rather not have to say them out louder more than once, those ugly, horrible words. 

he waits for the other shoe to drop. 

"what?" the look you are giving him is one of disbelief and guilt, filled with upset and pain. "never, tobio, i love you. gods."

the relief that follows is immense, the breath he had been holding comes out in a loud exhale. your words puts a stop to the downward spiral he had been going down with, allows him to breathe again without feeling like his world tilted on its axis. 

you drop your eyes to his hands, at a visible loss for words. 

"i'm sorry." you both start at the same time. 

"can i go first?" you ask, to which he nods immediately. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean it like that. i should have clarified my thoughts better."

"that's okay—"

"it's not!" your voice echoes in the small space, shaking your head. "sorry, i can't seem to get my shit together, can i?"

"take your time."

"this." you gesture at him vaguely. "this is what i am talking about."

kageyama cocks his head to the side, confused at what you are trying to say.

"your complete disregard for yourself sometimes, for starters. like, you continuing to love me quietly through my last marriage. what if it hadn't failed? what if, i don't know, i am stupid and stayed in it anyway?"

"that would be awful."

he certainly does not miss pining over you in the darkness and the quiet, all the overflowing love he had for you that was forbidden.

"yeah. but what about you? you give everything to the things you love, the people, but i am worried you don't save any for yourself."

his eyebrows twitch, thinking about the care that goes into making sure his diet is well-balanced for his profession as an athelete and ensuring his life is neat and clean, not to mention enough sleep. 

you pinch the skin on the back of his hand lightly. "i mean the mental aspect of the equation."

"i am following but also not." he frowns. 

"i know you, tobio. i see you. you are always pushing yourself to your limits to achieve great heights, and setting the goal higher once you reach it. you are fucking amazing, and you are an inspiration to me and a lot of people we don't even know." you take his hand into yours, tracing the lengths of his fingers. "i worry you do not see that. i worry you don't see yourself the way i do."

a weak chuckle sounds from you. "i worry about you, that you are too hard on yourself, that you do not give yourself the grace you deserve, the grace you give me, to be human and make mistakes."

"i don't want to make mistakes." his voice wavers ever so slightly, you would have missed it if you are not so tuned in to him. 

"i know, tobio." you say his name in a reverent way, in the way he does not think he deserves. "but when you do, it is okay to be gentle with yourself. don't be so hard on yourself."

"i don't get it." he shivers at the softness you are treating him with. there is prickling in his eyes that he desperately tries to blink away, but they collect and pool at the corners of his eyes before tumbling down despite his best efforts. 

something about how his best might not ever be enough terrifies the shit out of him. 

"why would you love me if i am not perfect—if i fuck up when it comes to you, if i cannot provide you what i promised? why would you choose me of all people if i cannot be the best for you? you could replace me with someone better—"

"never, tobio." this time, he thinks he hear the breaking of your heart in the way you call him. "you can never be replaced."

but he is thinking of kuroo, of your ex-husband that is no longer in your life because he stopped being a husband and you walked away, and he cannot stop the words before they are uttered. "you replaced kuroo-san with me."

kageyama immediately regrets it as you flinch from his blunt words. 

this. this is exactly what he is afraid of—of slipping up when he is not in control and triple-checking every word and action that he does. 

everything has to be perfect with him because when he is not, people get hurt. 

you are gaping at him, and he can see the stream of thoughts flying through your mind. if he can take it back, he would. he has lived with the thought for so long, it would not hurt him to keep it buried under some rock forever—as long as you would have him.

—but he cannot, so he is forced to face the consequences of his actions, whether it is your disappointment or anger or—upset?

of course you would be upset at him for saying something like that. 

"you are not a replacement." your sweet voice is quiet—devastated, he realizes coldly—in a way he has never heard before, something like disappointment and tiredness imbued in it. "i love you because you are you, loud and brash at the things you love, quiet and steady when you think no one is looking. i love the way you wear your heart on your sleeve, the way you are an open book to anyone who bothers to read." 

you huff at him, wiping a tear away from the corner of your eye. "all the things people say about you, they are all wrong. you feel so fiercely, love so fiercely. you are capable of so much love, more than anyone i know. it is myblessing that you chose to love me. i wish i had met you sooner, if only so i can offer you everything i had." 

he remains silent. 

"you are not a replacement to me. i was prepared to live out the rest of my life with thirty cats and then you came along. you are tobio, the one who guarded me in the darkness, who waited patiently as i found my way back. you are more than anything i could have wished for, and i only want to be the same for you. now i am here, so you don't have to be strong by yourself anymore. i can be strong for the both of us too." 

kageyama only registers the wetness on his cheek, down the column of his throat when you gently dab his skin with the sleeve of your sweater. 

"you can rest now, tobio." he shudders, a strangled sob escaping his throat as he lurches forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. your warmth embraces him immediately, arms automatically coming around to hold him. 

you stay quiet as he falls apart in your arms, the pieces that he has held together by sheer stubbornness and perfectionism losing its adhesion. all you can do is be his shelter as he had done for you, a sanctuary keeping his heart safe against the horrors of the outside world. 

"it's okay, baby." you rub his back in a soothing manner. 

you will be patient, for the man who saved you again and again and again. you will be his guard and his shield, as he was for you. 

"you love me, is that real?" tobio speaks up once his sobs die down, words muffled into your skin. "sometimes i wake up and it feels like a dream. that i get to love you. i’m afraid that the gods are playing with me again, that they will take you away a second time. i’m afraid that you would leave when you find out how unworthy i am. i don't have a good history with the things i love, or the people. it's always…"

"conditional?" you recall the word you threw at his face when he challenged your stubbornness all those months ago. guilt eats at you for having done so. 

"yeah." his arms tighten around your torso, and then loosen shortly after as though you are glass and he is afraid of shattering you. "people always liked me better when i acted a certain way."

your heart squeezes in his chest, understanding the unsaid words—by a certain way, he meant when he is being someone he is not. 

"you can hold me tightly, mia stella." my star. as though he is bright and good and worthy of your love. he is nothing but a selfish man. "you can be selfish with me."

he raises his head, surprise evident on his features. 

"you spoke your thoughts aloud, as you tend to these days."

kageyama buries his head in your shoulder again, this time out of embarassment. 

"it makes me happy, you know. because it means you feel safe enough with me to do that unconsciously." 

he pouts into the fabric of your sweater, cheeks warming from your outright declaration of love. all but leans into your touch as your fingers thread through his hair. 

"i am not asking you to change, or be someone you are not. i only wish for you to share a bit of the love you give me with yourself, give yourself some grace to fall and make mistakes. i love you and i want you to be human with me." 

"you speak of crazy things, mio sole." but gods, he loves you so much that he is willing to try, even if it feels like an entirely foreign concept, an impossibility he has not considered. "will you be patient with me while i try?"

your smile feels like the warmth of a thousand susn. "always. i will love you for the both of us, until you learn to love yourself, and then till the end of the stars."

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity @wordsofelie (gen) @mintgrumpy @noble-17 @box-of-roses @theshxaverse @animechick555 @jkkhay @sickpatientt

(tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @silkloom @mcdonaldsnumberone @lale-txt

a/n. all of this to say that i will love him through all his highs and lows, be patient with him and keep his heart safe so that he can be himself always. a reminder for the perfectionists to be patient and give yourself grace. you are human too! keeping getting up and keep trying. i love you all, we are almost to the end... please expect slow updates!

curious about their chosen term of endearment? check out his sun, her star

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting