Haikyuu x Reader ⇹ One Shots

New ↠ Yamaguchi Tadashi

Author's Note: This is dedicated to @QueenCraft915 😌💜 And it's another AU. What else do you expect from me. Oops it took 2 months to update but hey it's my summer now? So I have more time yay.

---

I wonder how many people wake up without remembering what they've dreamt about, or without dreaming at all.

Perhaps in another life, people thought, it would be possible. In another life, it might have been common to not remember your dreams. For dreams to be nonsensical or unimportant.

But not here.

As the God of Sleep casts a spell on me, black fills my mind. It's a blank space, and I'm endlessly wandering until I wake.

I've told several people of this occurrence. Most of the time, they think I'm trying to pull a joke.

"Haha, you're hilarious, (F/N)!"

Others, meaning the adults, grew a serious expression. "That's bad. I mean, that's not supposed to happen."

I usually don't care. I didn't dread going to sleep or anything, but this difference made me feel incomplete.

Like I was missing out.

I mean, when you're one of the only people who doesn't dream of their past lives, who wouldn't?

---

There was a man with dark hair that went just below his shoulders, tied into a ponytail.

He has a paint smock on, reds and yellows splattered on it.

One hand holding a paintbrush, another a palette, he's standing in front of a wooden easel. Though he stands, not doing anything, his canvas is anything but empty. If anything, it looked close to completion. A masterpiece near to completion.

His subject was an unknown woman, to him at least. Her hair was (h/c), parted in a fitting fashion and left unscathed by pins, ribbons, and other accessories. No rubies, sapphires; no silver or gold. Yet she snatched his attention, like a moth to a flame.

She wore a radiant dress of maroon, trimmed with silver, with intricate yet subtle patterns. Based on her garments alone, she looked like a woman of noble blood, despite the lack of jewels adorning her neck and ears.

Yet the focus of the painting was clearly not her hair or dress. It was her eyes.

On her face was a mask, the design matching that of her dress, covering her features partially.

Her lips are positioned in the shape of neutrality, yet her eyes, peeking through the holes of the mask, are enough to captivate anyone.

Despite the stillness of the portrait, there was a certain glimmer present in her irises. It was as though all the emotion was painted so carefully in her eyes, making them unforgettable.

---

His dream ends as Tsukishima wakes him up from his slumber, slightly scowling as he looks down at him.

"Oi, it's lunch break already." Tsukishima grunts, before sitting back down on his desk chair, laying out a bento in front of him.

"H-hold on, didn't sensei-"

Yamaguchi gets cut off by his best friend, who rolls his eyes.