"Iwa-chan doesn't have any beauty marks," Oikawa points out, his voice obnoxious and annoying and-
"He does," you disagree without thinking about it. "On the back of his right elbow, for example."
Four sets of eyes flicker to you and you bite your lip and curse your tongue.
"How would you know?" Oikawa asks, his voice low and daring, like a trap. His eyes pose a challenge, too. Iwaizumi stares down at the table, like he can't believe he's having this conversation in the middle of lunch break, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa... well, who knows what they're thinking, really.
"I'm sitting behind him," you point out. "And he wore short sleeves yesterday."
-
You stare in disbelief. When you accepted the position of Manager of the Seijoh Volleyball Club, you hadn't considered meeting any classmates there. Iwaizumi looked more like a Baseball Player, Oikawa was annoying enough to win every debate he started, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa... well, who knows what they're into, really.
But now they're all here, right in front of you, and shirtless too.
Your eyes flicker over the beauty marks on Iwaizumi's back. They're scattered, like pins on a map. You can't help but think of the saying, and wonder how many past lives Iwaizumi might have had. Or maybe just one overeager significant other.
"You're staring," Oikawa points out with a mean grin.
You send one back. "Get dressed then. You're asking for it."
-
"Need help?" You ask, when Iwaizumi appears next to you after training.
Iwaizumi nods, head bent. It's rare to catch him alone like this. He's flexing his fingers, but keeps his elbows locked to his side.
"I think I injured my elbow," he mutters under his breath. "I don't want to make a fuss about it."
"Want me to check?"
He nods, though jerks his head. "But not here. I don't want-"
"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa sings and you lean around the Ace to stare down the Captain.
"Your boy-crush can wait," you holler back at him. "Iwaizumi needs to help me first!"
"Rude!" Oikawa pouts but turns back to the others.
Your hand curls around Iwaizumi's elbow instinctively as you lead him out the door, the equipment bag now heavy on his shoulder. Your pointer finger brushes over something and you know, without having to check, that it's a beauty mark, slightly raised.
You wonder about the intimacy of kissing that spot, a hidden place, love tucked away like a secret.
Iwaizumi shivers and you apologize, but the feeling lingers, the thought has etched itself into the canvas of your mind.
-
"Hey," you look up from your books, surprised to find Iwaizumi towering over your table, his face set into a scowl.
"Yes?"
"Are you free this weekend?"
You mentally check your calendar. "I think so, yes. How's your elbow?"
"Better," he grunts, one hand rising to grip his neck. You spot the beauty mark winking back at you with this movement and almost miss the hints of a blush on his cheeks.
"There's a firework at the park," Iwaizumi points out, looking pained now. "Do you want to join me... there?"
"Oh, who's coming?"
His face contorts for a moment. "Just... us."
You stare at him. He stares back at you. And then it clicks.
"Like... a date?"
"Yes. Please?"
-
"Call me Hajime, please."
You stare at the ceiling of your room, too wired to sleep.
A firework dances behind your closed eyes, but it's not the one you saw tonight. It's a flashwork of memories, of glimpses and stolen moments.
Hajime, smiling up at the sky. His hand around yours, dragging you along to the best spot. The way his face changes at the sight of a bug, delight turning his features younger.
You know the feel of his lips on your cheek, know the warmth of his hand and the taste of his first name on your tongue.
You curl your toes and bury your head in your hands, irrevocably in love.
-
"I miss you," Hajime mutters, bleary eyed and exhausted. He yawns. "I don't want to hang up yet."
"You have to," you disagree. "You need your beauty sleep."
"Who's idea was it anyway, to study in America?"
You laugh. "Yours, Hajime."
"Sounds fake. Sure it wasn't Oikawa?"
"Sadly so. Hey," you smile cheekily. "Are you wearing sunscreen?"
Hajime furrows his brows. "Course. Always."
"Goód, good. Don't want you to get any new beauty marks without me to check."
He laughs, belly-deep and carefree, before slipping out of his shirt in one fluid movement, twisting to turn his back to the camera. "Still the same, love?"
"Still the same."
-
You find Hajime at the window, back bare, hair a mess.
"Hey," you lean into him, press a kiss to the beauty mark right on top his shoulder blade. "What's so interesting out there?"
"We're married," Hajime points out, his voice airy and dreamlike. "We're really married."
"Hmm," you kiss the next beauty mark, the one right above his spine. "Did the view tell you that or did you figure that out yourself?"
He pinches the skin above your hip in retaliation. "You're pretty sassy for a newlywed."
"Doesn't feel that new," you admit. "Feels like we've been married forever."
"Yeah?" He doesn't try to turn, rather takes your hands in his, rubs his thumbs over your wrists. "In a past life, maybe."
You laugh at the thought. "Oh, so I was the overeager significant other that got you those marks, eh?"
"Like it could have been anybody else.
for @chimielie and @seiwas-interact bc I was inspired by this post
Can be read as a standalone or as a part two to Fools - for @teabeexo
Everything’s fine. You’re fine.
The train is perfectly on time. So far. You’ll have enough time to catch the bus. If everything goes like planned.
You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, checking the time. And the state of your battery. Then the power bank. It still sits where you packed it, next to a package of your favorite protein bars. Maybe you should put them separately. The bars are packaged well, but they could break and crumbs could damage your power bank or stain the spare shirt you packed.
You take another breath. It doesn’t feel like the oxygen is going where it’s supposed to go but you continue taking one breath after the other. Smell the flower, blow out the candle, like you’ve practiced before.
Your phone rings and you scramble to pick up the call, too aware of all the people around you.
“Yes?” You gasp.
Atsumu laughs. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, no bad time at all,” you swallow. “I’ve still got twenty-eight minutes before I’ll reach the train station and there should be a bus every twenty minutes to the stadium.”
“See?” There’s noise on Atsumu’s end of the line, and you can hear him talk to someone. “Can that wait? I’m talking to my girl. I know, it’s so sad, get your own.”
“Who was that?”
“Suna,” he quips. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Like I said, I’ve still got plenty of time and the train is still on time.”
“Yeah, but how are you doing?”
He doesn’t put emphasis on anything in particular, but you can still hear it, the understanding coating his words your favorite shade. You take a breath and this time, it reaches right to the tips of your toes.
“I’m nervous.”
“Mhm, thought so. I got permission from Coach to keep my phone on me until we have to go in. So I’m basically by your side until you get here.”
“What if-”
“I’ll hand my phone to Samu and he’ll take over. Though I think you’ll be here before that. You left pretty early.”
“Next time I’ll come with you right away.”
“Yeah, no,” he laughs. “You’re not going to give up your days off just to wait for my training to end. Besides, you’re doing so good. Next time you’ll know that you can rock this and it will be fine.”
“I doubt it.”
“That’s what you have me for. By the way… what are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”
“Yeah? Ow!” He curses and his voice is gone for a second before he’s back. “Can you please tell my friends to stop hitting me?”
You laugh, surprised how easy it comes. “I would, but I don’t think they would listen to me.”
“I wasn’t even saying anything stupid,” Atsumu grumbles. “I was just wondering if you’re wearing my jersey.”
“Sure you were,” you tease. “And of course I’m wearing your jersey.”
-
Rough hands play with yours. You watch, mesmerized by the gentle way Atsumu handles you.
“Are you bored?” You whisper, trying not to disturb the others, though you don’t think they can hear you over the volume of the TV.
“No,” Atsumu whispers back. “Well, maybe a little.”
“Is that why you’re playing with my hands?”
“Ah,” he smiles. “No. And yes.”
You lean into him, rest your head on his shoulder. His warm, always, and smells like a home you’d never known before. “Tell me more.”
“You were tugging at your cuticles,” he mumbles into your ear. “I don’t like it when your fingers bleed.”
“You should paint them, then,” you offer, a little choked up. He’s still able to surprise you, even after all this time. “Maybe that would stop me.”
“Nah,” he chuckles. “I’d be awful at that. But I like playing with them instead. They’re so soft.”
No matter the hair, you will be loved - Dad!Kuroo x Reader
for @alienaiver
Everyone keeps saying it.
"I hope your child won't have his father's hair."
It had been funny the first time and maybe even the second and the third, but by now it's getting tiresome.
"Harhar," Tetsuro laughs, and though it doesn't sound the least bit amused the other person doesn't seem to notice.
"You good?" You ask from the kitchen as soon as your visitor has left - cousin of a cousin or something like that. Somehow everyone wants to renew their acquaintance with you now that the family is growing - and Tetsuro is getting promotion after promotion.
"Sure," he says, but it lacks conviction.
"Are you?" You ask again, leaning into the doorway, your bump making every position look and feel a little awkward. "Because you're making that face you had when you accidentally took a spoon of my face mask. You can tell me willingly what's going on or I can tickle it out of you, whatever you prefer."
"If you tickle me, I'll tickle you back and then you'll just pee on yourself again."
"One time," you remind him. "That happened one time."
He's grinning now, a far cry from the desolation that had been on his features seconds before. Tetsuro leans in for a kiss, lingering after.
"What do you think the baby's going to look like?"
"Human, I hope."
He snorts. "I know, but... like... do you think he's going to have my eyes or yours? Your weird-looking toes or my long hands?"
"He?" You ask and he pulls a face.
"I know, I know, we don't know the gender yet. That just slipped out. He or she, you know."
You're quiet for a minute.
"Would you mind if he looked like you? If it was a boy, I mean?"
Teturo hesitates. You tuck a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear, and watch as it slips out right away, unwilling to be tamed.
"You're really good-looking, you know that, right?" You ask and he snorts.
"You say that because you've got weird taste. But when I was a kid-"
"When I was a kid, I had the worst, untamable curls you can imagine."
Tetsuro shrugs. "Can't be that bad."
"Uh, yes? Also, baby shampoo isn't made for curls, so you can imagine how that turned out."
"You want picture proof?"
"Absolutely."
"Coming right up," you turn back toward the kitchen where your phone lies. "I'm going to call my mom and you know that's going to take a hot minute. Can you make Dinner in the meantime?"
He groans. "Do I have to?"
"Do you want to talk to my mom?"
"Yeah, I'm on it... Pork Belly or Veggies?"
-
"Oh my god you look amazing," Tetsuro guffaws as he swipes, his head resting on the swell of your steadily growing bump.
Your mother has done her duty, sending over all the worst pictures she could find. Because you just know that there must have been some decent one lying around, though they're not mixed in with all the horrible shots of the mess on your head. Count on a mother to find the most unflattering picture of a child and call it a treasure.
"Can you imagine?" You ask when his laughter has calmed down a bit. "What if our hair textures would mix?"
Tetsuro ponders that for a second before he moves, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Our child will be the cutest, most messy-haired being on earth."
Can I request Daichi with #14 of the Summer Prompts please?
Prompt: when they wear tank-tops while doing manly labor and you're just there admiring the sight (I hope I got that right)
😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.😎.
You whistle low under your breath.
Daichi pulls his shoulders up to his ears, face red, but not from the sun.
"Stop it," he insists, but there's a joyful tone underneath, one that tells you he likes the attention even though he's going to insist it's childish.
"No no," you wave him off, "please, continue."
"I won't if you won't."
"But baby," you pout, "the weather is so nice and you wanted to wash the cars for so long."
He sighs before pointing his finger at you. "Behave."
But you wouldn't have married him if you knew how to listen, would you?
Five minutes after he's disappeared out the door in nothing but cut-off shorts and a tank top that's slightly too tight on him, you've grabbed all your supplies. Essentials, really.
There's the comfy chair you can lie in - in a way that showcases all your best features - and have a drink nearby, as well as the cooler with necessary drinks. You bring a book too, though you don't think you'll need it.
Daichi doesn't notice you immediately, but when he does, he doubles down with laughter.
"What is this?" He asks, coming over to your side of the driveway. "Are you playing rich princess?"
You put your sunglasses up to squint at him. "Am I not your little princess?"
He smiles, wide and joyful, and leans down to kiss you.
“And it’s going to be a Blind Date,” Hitoka points out. “I’m not telling you who it is. But he’ll wear a red scarf.”
“A red scarf,” you nod. “Gotcha.”
She squints at you. “You don’t wanna know more?”
“No, I’m fine.” You sigh. “Better to go in blind, right? Not like swiping on Tinder did me any good.”
She laughs heartily. “You’re too much in your head. You’re just like me! But he’ll be nice. Ah, well… he’ll be nice for you.”
It’s your turn to squint. “He’s not that nice to others?”
“He is!” She reassures you, already panicking. “I’d never say anything bad about him, he’s my friend. But he can be a bit brash at first if he doesn’t know or trust you. But he’s always respectful to authorities, I know that’s important to you.”
“Well,” you sniff before sighing. “I am too single to complain about that. Blind Date it is.”
-x-
“A Blind Date,” Kei repeats, dragging the words. “How old are you?”
Hitoka pouts. “It’s a cute idea!”
“Sure, for her. But you could tell me who it is.”
“But where’s the fun in that? Tadashi, back me up!”
“Tsukki-”
“No,” Kei shakes his head. “Don’t bother. I’m going to go along with it because you asked so nicely, but only this one time, okay? And don’t remind me that I’ve been single for too long, I know. Shush!” His hand snaps up just in time to cut off Kanji who’d just opened his mouth.
Kanji pouts but falls back again, throwing his arm around Hitoka for support.
“What is she going to wear?” Kei asks Hitoka. “A red scarf too?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “She’s got a big red hair clip that’s shaped like a flower. A Gerbera.”
“Oh, is that the exotic one?” Kanji asks, perking up.
“No, you mean Hibiscus,” Kentarou drawls before taking a sip of his beer. He rolls his eyes at the sudden attention. “What? Everyone knows those flowers.”
“Sure,” Kei drawls back, finding at least a little reprieve in the angry glare he gets in response.
-x-
Hitoka has a lot of friends, you realize, as you stalk her Instagram account.
But she’s very good at tagging all of them, be it work friends, old high school friends or all those other people she knows from dating a Volleyball Player.
You scroll back all the way to her first post in High School and come up with only three people wearing a red scarf around her.
Sure, that means nothing in the long run, but one of those people is a girl, and the other two are Asahi Azumane the Fashion Designer and someone called Tsukishima Kei, Volley Player.
It doesn’t take long to figure out that Azumane is happily married, the red scarf now tied around his wife’s neck. What a shame. He’d have been cute.
Tsukishima’s Instagram Account is private and you’re not going to embarrass yourself by sending him a follower request.
Koganegawa Kanji’s account, however, is public and he posts a lot.
From Selfies at work, Tsukishima glaring at him in the background to Group Photos at the Isekaya they seem to visit regularly, everything is there.
It doesn’t take long to find a messy video of the Gang, Tsukishima and someone with a haircut resembling a Tennisball engaged in the laziest catfight you’ve ever seen or heard.
Tennisballhead’s insults are not for the soft but Tsukishima draws back just as effectively.
So… you could be mistaken, but you’re pretty sure Tsukishima is going to be your not so blind Blind Date.
-x-
He doesn’t want to know, really. But then again, a bit of research doesn’t hurt, right?
Hitoka has only five girlfriends that she regularly mentions and posts on social media.
Two of them are taken, one is going through a complicated breakup at the moment as far as he’s aware, and the other two…
There is no Gerbera hair clip in sight. Not even a hair clip with a different flower, though he doesn’t think Hitoka would mess up something that simple.
It’s two days until the Date and he finds himself scrolling through both of their Instagrams, looking for clues, pretending he isn’t interested at all
And maybe he wouldn’t have figured it out if not for Kanji’s big mouth.
-x-
The Diner’s nice, decorated in a western style.
You start salivating just at the thought of a milkshake with fries but busy yourself with the menu instead, sipping slowly from the glass of water you’d ordered.
You’re early, the result of a surprising eagerness to meet your blind date.
Someone brushes past you and you can feel it - the giant red hair clip snagging on something. You can feel the break before you hear it, watch helplessly as the fake Gerbera adorning the clip tumbles to the floor, only to be crushed under someone’s eager foot.
Your hair now flows freely around your face, a welcome shield from the outside world as you fight against the sting of tears.
It’s nothing big, the hair clip not even of sentimental value, but you can’t help but see a sign in it.
-
Tsukishima Kei is fifteen minutes late.
You stare at Hitoka’s message on your phone, the innocent question of whether you made it to the Diner just fine. No sign that she knows he’s not showing.
Maybe he got held up at work? Does that happen to Volleyball Players?
“Have you decided yet?” Your server appears next to your table, chewing bubble gum and grinning.
Surely you’re imagining the smug curve of her smile.
“Just a minute,” you ask. “I’m waiting on someone.”
“Oh honey,” she drawls out with enough satisfaction to leave no doubt she’s enjoying this. “He’s not showing. Just accept it.”
“I-”
“Are we paying for that roast on the side or is that on the house?” A deep voice asks to your left and you both turn, surprised.
Tsukishima’s there, in the flesh, out of breath, and beads of sweat glistening on the bow of his lip. He looks like he ran here and you’re ready to believe it, no more evidence needed.
“I’m sorry Honey,” he tells you with a voice so sweet you can only call it passive-aggressive. “The train got delayed and my phone was empty. Never letting Kanji play games on it to pass the time.”
“You’re forgiven,” you tell him simply, sending a pointed glare toward your server.
She catches herself, shuffling away with an apology but that’s too little too late. You know you won’t be tipping too well tonight.
Tsukishima slips into his seat, pulling the red scarf from his neck.
“I thought you were supposed to wear a hair clip?”
“I thought you were supposed to be on time?”
He smiles, clearly enjoying that you dare to fight back.
“Missed my train. Running over was faster than waiting for the next.”
“Mhm,” you eye him. “You sure you didn’t just want to show off your stamina?”
“Maybe?” He grins. “What about the hair clip?”
“It got crushed under careless feet,” you admit, trying not to feel sorry for yourself.
“Good,” he comments. “You won’t need it any longer.”
“Excuse me?” You ask, a little perplexed.
A blush, as red as the Gerbera mentioned, rises onto his cheeks.
“No more blind dates?” He offers and you smile. “We’ll see about that.”
- Bonus -
“How did you know it was me?” You ask, your joined hands swinging in between your bodies.
His cheeks are flushed from the cold, the wine and no doubt your attention as well.
“Kanji… Hitoka’s boyfriend. He mentioned your favorite food.”
“And?” You blink, surprised that this might have led him to you.
“I might have been stalking Hitoka’s Instagram. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, you wear that red scarf a lot. Just saying.”
“You knew it was me?”
You shrug, unable to keep from smiling proudly. “Had a hunch.”
I’m so predictable, but domestic fluff with atsumu!! (if you’d like)
"Anyway, I was taking the trash out yesterday when I noticed-" you cut yourself off when Atsumu steps in behind you, curling one arm around you as the other places a cup of coffee in front of you. The latte art is a little botched, he's still working on it, though you can tell that it's supposed to be a heart.
"Thank you," you mutter as he drops a kiss on the top of your head.
"Anytime." You can feel him smirk into your hair.
You turn back to Osamu, telling him about the family of cats you've found near the trashcans, the mother belonging to a neighbor.
"They're so cute!" You emphasize, lifting your cup of coffee to take a sip as Atsumu mans the kitchen behind you.
The scent of coffee invades your nose, waking you up. Then the taste- you spit onto the table, Osamu flinching back.
"TSUMU!?!" You yell, grabbing your glass of water to wash out the taste. "The milk's sour."
"Oh?" He turns. You can tell just by the way he looks that he knew. "I thought that didn't matter when it's heated up."
"Out of the kitchen," Osamu groans.
"But I'm in the middle of-"
"Out of the kitchen!"
Tsumu sneaks up to you, tail tucked between his legs, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as an apology.
"Sorry," he mutters, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "But at least the latte art was nice, right?"
"Yeah," you sigh, the taste of sour milk still on your tongue. "It was."
For sure! Warning, this one has a bittersweet ending. Soulmate Trope: Their last words to you are written on your skin.
“Don’t get lost, love.” - Tsukishima
"Don't get lost, love."
Those words, written on your skin, hold a deeper truth to them.
They will identify your soulmate, yes, but only by their last words spoken to you.
-
“What are yours?” You ask Kei one month into dating him, expecting him to answer just like everyone else before.
But he doesn’t, refusing to tell you.
“You don’t believe I’m your soulmate?” You ask, a little wounded. You’d been almost sure he could be the one, with his dry humor and the snarky way he cares for you.
“Did I say that?” He asks back, flicking your temple. “I just don’t want anyone to know.”
“No one knows?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t go out of my way to hide them, they’re right in the hollow of my left knee, but why would I tell you? So that you can obsess over if it sounds like you?”
“I wouldn’t have done that.”
“Sure you wouldn’t.”
“So you don’t want to know what mine are?”
“Already know,” he says. “With the way you’re waving your arms around at my sight it was bound to happen.”
“Excuse me? I’m happy to see you!”
He grins and leans in to silence you with a kiss, effectively dropping the topic.
-
“We’re out of strawberry jam, love,” Kei calls out from the kitchen as you pull on your shoes. “Can you bring that too?”
“Sure,” you tell him, half a mind wondering when he’d adopted that name for you. Usually, it’s stinker or bug or a rare kitten if he feels feisty. “Love you.”
“Don’t get lost,” he calls after you and you freeze on the doorstep, turning around.
“What did you just say?” You ask, heart beating in your throat.
“What? Are your ears blocked? I said don’t get lost, love.”
“No, no, no, no!” You turn back around, running into the kitchen to hug him. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t ever say that.”
Kei, frozen for a moment, pulls you in when he realizes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against the top of your head. “Spilled out of me like that. Didn’t think about it.”
Hearing him say something else calms you down.
“Don’t you ever say that again,” you beg him, reluctant to leave.
“Go get me my jam,” he tells you instead, kissing you so sweet and tenderly you could almost believe he’s no longer the Kei you know. “I’ll be here when you return. Hopefully with a clean bathroom unless you want to switch jobs.”
-
“Any last words?” Kei asks, squeezing your hand.
He looks awfully pale in the bright lights of the hospital and you’ve got half a mind to call for Tadashi to look after him.
“I hope the little one looks like you,” you tell him and watch him go almost cross-eyed with faux anger.
“Please no,” he begs, the last you hear of him before you’re pushed into surgery.
You emerge to a numbness in your limbs and a disgusting taste on your tongue, to the sound of quiet whispers and a comforting hand on your knee.
“Kei?” You ask, blinking against the light.
“We’re both here, Mumma,” he tells you and then there they are, perfect in every way.
“You been worried?” You ask later when the little one sleeps soundly on your chest.
“Yeah,” he admits in the silence of the room. “What if I never saw you again?”
Your brain’s still a bit slow but you still realize, pull him close to kiss the fear from his lips.
“You think I’m your soulmate?” You ask, unable to keep from wanting reassurance.
“You have to ask?” Kei quips back, resting his hand on the little one’s back. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that.”
You watch him, the silent admiration on his face as he takes it in, this young life that you both created, a living, breathing symbol of your love.
“You’ve been thinking about something,” you point out and he nods.
“I wanna keep saying it,” he admits, quietly, as if afraid of what those words will turn into if spoken too loud. “Not because I need to prove something, but because I like how they sound and I… I want to take away the fear.”
“You wanna be surprised?”
“Don’t you?” He asks, his eyes more open and vulnerable than you’ve ever seen.
“Do you want to hear them one day and feel all life drain out of you, waiting for the moment you realize it’s the truth?”
You’ve never thought about it like that.
“I love you,” you tell him, earnestly, from the bottom of your heart. “You can say whatever you want.”
“Don’t get lost, love.”
-
“Don’t get lost, love,” Kei calls from the kitchen as you usher the kids outside. Their dentist appointment is in half an hour and you’re already late.
“Love you,” you call back, no time for a kiss goodbye.
“Love you, Dad,” the chorus rings out around you and he laughs, calling after them too, his words cut off by the door falling shut.
“We need to get out earlier next time,” you tell them in the car as you pull out of the driveway. “Dad doesn’t like when we leave without a kiss goodbye.”
And though they promise to be better about it, you can’t help but know it won’t be that easy.
“Mom, there’s something black on my hand,” your daughter calls out, holding it up.
“We’ll check it out later with Dad. It’s probably your Soulmark coming in.”
“I want one too!” Your son declares, always eager to prove himself. “When do I get mine?”
“Soon,” you tell him, hoping it will end the discussion. It doesn’t.
Soon is never soon enough for the kids but always too soon for the adults.
-
“Don’t get lost, love,” Kei tells you in the evening, kissing your temple as he slips under the covers.
It’s his way of saying goodnight now, your wrinkled hands joining under the covers.
“I love you,” you tell him, thinking of the soft spot in the hollow of his knee, of the three words written there you tell him every day.
He smiles and sighs and pulls you close, not yet knowing that he won’t wake up tomorrow.
can i please request something seijoh 4 related for your plot bun game? dealer’s choice. go hog wild. your writing’s gonna be fantastic either way!!
hello mattsun anon! How nice of you to chime in.
This is really hard, because I don't knooooooowwwww....
"Poor Iwa-chan," Oikawa teases, "I bet you'd get a girlfriend too if you tried not looking so scary all the time."
"No no," you disagree, "the girls dig it."
Mattsun snorts. "Which ones? The First-Years just run away all the time when he comes close."
"No, they just run away when they see you," Makki says, kicking your foot with his like he's doing his own version of a low-five.
"Very funny," Iwaizumi drawls, squinting at Oikawa. "And who says I can't get a girlfriend?"
"The fact that you don't have one?"
"At least I'm not just liked for my looks."
"At least I have looks people like me for."
"Guys, guys, you're both pretty," you wave a hand in between them, "but we still need to finish this group project. I'm not letting Tatsumo be first in class this year."
"Just date him," Mattsun drawls out lazily, "isn't he totally in love with you."
You pull a face as Makki snickers. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are still lost in their bickering.
-
"You know I'm a girl, right?" You ask Iwaizumi on the way home, Makki and Mattun walking ahead of you, Oikawa and his girlfriend a few steps behind.
"Yeah, why?" Iwaizumi musters you under furrowed brows.
"Just checking."
-
"There are no more chairs," Kindaichi calls out when you enter, "shall I get some more from the basement?"
"No, that would take too long," Oikawa looks like he's been waiting on all of you for hours when it had just been a few minutes. "You can just sit on the floor."
"No way, I don't want to get a UTI," you scan the room, "anyone letting me sit in their lap?"
"I volunteer Iwaizumi," Mattsun hollers.
"Yeah, strongest thighs in all Seijoh," Makki adds and although the ace blushes slightly, he nods, shoulders squared.
"Sit down," Oikawa orders immediately, "I wanna get started. Why do team meetings always take so damn long?"
"You good?" Iwaizumi asks, his mouth next to your ear.
He sounds completely unaffected. You are going to die.
-
"Would you please become my girlfriend?"
You stare down at the chocolate. Tatsumo went through all the effort of drawing your name on it with colored sugar.
"Sorry, I-" There's a noise that has you look up. Iwaizumi's at the door, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Didn't want to interrupt," he says, turning away. When you reach the door he's already out of sight.
There's no use running after him now, so you turn back, rejection already sitting on your tongue.
-
"So?" Mattsun settles in the seat on your left. "Did you confess to Iwaizumi?"
"What did he say?" Makki asks, leaning in from your right. "He looked constipated today."
"He walked in on Tatsumo confessing to me."
"Oh." Mattsun nods. "Well, maybe now he'll realize you're a girl."
You close your eyes for a moment.
"It doesn't matter," you tell them when you open your eyes again. "I've decided that I'm not staying in Japan anyway."
